


His Voice

by IHearttheHitachiinTwins



Series: Yandere Angel Dust [3]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Aromantic Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Asexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Cannibalism, Canon Asexual Character, Claustrophobia, Corrupt police, Dark, Forced Marriage, Historical Reverence to Slavery, I don't condone this behaviour, Kidnapping, M/M, Misgendering, Mostly unhappy ones, Multiple Endings, Murder, Obsession, Obsessive Behavior, One-Sided Attraction, Period Typical Bigotry, Period-Typical Racism, Thunderstorms, Trans Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Trans Male Character, Unhappy Ending, Unhealthy Relationships, We don't wanna be hurting anybody, Yandere, Yandere Angel Dust, panic attack (mentioned), please ask to tag, this got dark fast
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:27:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 36,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26679709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IHearttheHitachiinTwins/pseuds/IHearttheHitachiinTwins
Summary: Louisiana was not a place Angel had any buisiness being. Raised in the concrete labrynth of New York City, New Orleans was too spread out, too humid, too hot, and the bayou stunk. When Pa sent him down south for a job, the best he could hope for was a quick turnaround, a halfway discreete speakeasy, and maybe a decent cocktail, if he got lucky.He finds something much better.And he doesn't plan on letting him slip away.
Relationships: Alastor & Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)
Series: Yandere Angel Dust [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1935844
Comments: 98
Kudos: 51





	1. The First Week - Down South

**Author's Note:**

> Please note the tags, this shit got much darker than expected and I don't want anyone getting hurt. I will be very clear right ow though, there will be NO rape or attempted rape in this fic.
> 
> A great deal of these ideas are curtesy of my dear friend and enabler @i-used-to-wear-the-fedora on tumblr, and @candywebs who inspired this sudden bought of Yandere Angel in the first place.
> 
> Mostly buildup in this chapter, we get to the juicy stuff next time...

This was punishment for something, Angel just knew it.

He got off the train after two days of being stuck in a tiny compartment with men stealing glances at his skirts. He’d managed to make a handful of cash by blowing a particularly persistent guy in a private booth, but that was by far the most interesting part of an otherwise long, tedious journey.

Not only that, but he was here for grunt work. Checking on the booze distributors in a sister city was something an underling or runner could and  _ should _ have been doing, not the child of a don, no matter how much money seemed to be being skimmed off the top.

Maybe it was for that time on the east end. He wouldn’t put it past Archie to ‘suggest’ to Pops that Angel could use some time out of the city after that fiasco, which really wasn’t his fault. How was he supposed to know that the guard would recognise him? Or Mercer Street, which could have easily landed him in hot water if not for Jimmy’s very quick thinking.

Okay, maybe he’d done some things worth punishing, but  _ still. _

He groaned and tried to air himself as he looked. His pants, because he had to wear  _ pants _ to meet this bozo, were already sticking to his legs with sweat. Stupid southern heat. He stepped out onto the station and looked around for his contact, apparently a short fucker who would wear a red hat. He couldn’t see anyone for the crowd of heads getting off the train and even with his height and the subtle heel on his dress shoes, he couldn’t make out anybody that fit the bill. It took almost half an hour of searching and  _ two _ false positives to find the guy and by then both of them were in bad moods.

“There ya are.” The man said, a cajun accent adding a lilt to his voice. “‘Bout time. Come on.”

Angel was led to a street with virtually no cars in it, which was something Angel could barely comprehend in and of itself, and down towards a little eatery with some sort of french name. As they walked in, Angel noticed the subtle signs that it was a front business. The extra space under the counter to hide guns, the well hidden door at the back, the multiple entrances.

“Sit, my friend. And we will talk business.” 

Angel double checked the knife in his pant leg, the gun in his pocket, and the extra gun in his bag.

“Yeah. Let’s.”

~~~

Angel didn’t need to use his weapons, in the end, in fact the meeting was real simple. He checked the numbers with the meet up, the middleman said he would run the money to the dealers and the providers, and that was the end of it. Angel had barely gotten through his coffee before they parted ways. Angel couldn’t lie, he was disappointed. He’d been at least hoping for at least a little tension. The three weeks before the New York cut would be ready was going to be so boring.

Definitely a punishment.

The business out of the way, he started walking (walking because for some reason there were no fucking  _ cabs  _ down south. Seriously, not even a traffic light) to the house he’d be staying at. Owned by the family, a drug den not in use at the moment. Quiet. Out of the way.

Boring.

Just like the rest of this trip was gonna be.

After dumping his stuff, he figured there was daylight to burn and there was no point in burning it here, so he headed back out to the city, on a quest for booze.

Prohibition had done nothing to slow down the production and distribution of alcohol in New York and he suspected it hadn’t touched New Orleans either. Sure enough, asking the tender of the first flapper joint he found for something special had got him a surreptitiously passed glass of something clear and noxious.

He sat back and watched as people milled around and wondered if they had a queer joint in this city. Probably, although finding it might be tricky. Good thing he had time to kill. In the meantime he just watched the alien world around him go by.

It was too early for any girls to be on stage so the bartender had the radio on. Some jazzy little tune was being sung, filling the place with a lively air, even though there weren’t many people actually in the room. As the song ended, a cheery voice came over the station.

_ Ah, yet another brilliant piece from Mister Calloway. A true talent that one. We’ll get back to the music in just a moment folks, but for now I’m happy to announce the segment of our show where we cover current events! The local killer is still on the loose and claimed another confirmed victim last night. Combined with the disappearances of Mister Oakly and Miss Jannet Williams this past week, it’s safe to say the fiend is still very much at large. _

That voice, it was… Enchanting. Captivating. Angel felt like he was being drawn out of his body towards the radio, like he could fall through it and into the lap of this person. Angel vaguely heard something shatter, barely heard the grumble of the bartender about waste. He didn’t care. He shoved a pile of bills at the man to shut him up so he could go on listening.

Angel shook himself to snap himself out of it. The man read out the letters, as he said, and Angel listened, enraptured. The host accented the experience with sly comments and little anecdotes. He laughed at his own jokes. 

He had a nice laugh. 

The segment ended far too soon and the radio started playing music again. Angel blanked a few times when he realized that the lighting in the building had changed significantly and that there were far more people in here than there was initially. The tender was going to turn off the radio as ladies mulled about on the stage.

“Wait!” Angel said, eyes wide. “Don’t turn it off-”

“The show starts at five.” The tender told him flatly. “Can’t have it playing while the girls perform.”

“I-” Angel bit his lip as he realised he really couldn’t argue with that, but he felt a strong urge to try. He wanted to keep listening to that voice. “Who was that?”

“On the radio? That was Alastor. Local celebrity of sorts. Why?”

“I- No reason.”

Angel left the joint soon after. He didn’t particularly feel like staying out after that.

On the way back to the house he took the money he would have spent on booze the next few days and bought a radio.

~~~

Alastor’s show was nine till six, Monday to Friday, and Angel was enraptured. He’d heard only a little of that voice and he already wanted more. Needed more. There was this strange tickling feeling in his chest. An anticipation that wouldn’t go away. His leg was bouncing in his chair and he tapped his fingers restlessly on the table. It was like he had too much energy. Like it was all pent up and refused to go anywhere that wasn’t in pursuit of that voice.

To think less than a day ago he’d been upset about the fact that this job would involve basically no work. Stuck here with nothing to do. Now he was fervently calculating how much of Alastor’s show he could catch each day. The answer was a lot of it. The mafia favored dealings very early in the morning or during the rush, so he would catch far more than he missed.

The next day saw him awake bright and ready for nine, sitting by the radio and waiting anxiously for the show to begin. As the music faded out and the soft static of an ambient recording studio faded in, he felt his heart pounding in his chest.

Fuck, why was he  _ nervous? _

He was acting like a blushing schoolgirl hoping to catch sight of her crush as they passed on the street.

He took a breath. Reminded himself that it was just a radio show and sudden and unexpected feelings aside, Alastor couldn’t see him from here.

_ Good morning ladies and gentlemen, and what a lovely morning it is too. I hope you’re all having a swell day so far! I am your host for today, Alastor Landry, signing on on this beautiful Wednesday. _

Upon hearing the voice from the radio, Angel’s heart caught in his throat. It felt like he was choking and his head felt oddly light. What the hell was with this… this _ reaction?  _ Sure there had been crushes in the past, but this was… This was something different.

Angel was glad he was already sitting down because he was honestly weak kneed at the sound of this voice. The voice of a stranger he had never met. He tried to roll his eyes and snap himself out of it, but he couldn’t. Alastor’s voice, cheerful and chirpy and utterly enchanting, kept capturing his attention. 

He was utterly intoxicated.

So instead he leaned in to listen. He lost himself in the stories Alastor wove, groaned fondly at the corny jokes the host told, and even considered taking the invite to call into the station and answer the daily question. It was something very silly and meaningless about where you would travel if you could, but Alastor bounced off the callers so well that Angel could perfectly picture all of them. 

_ Personally, I’d be quite happy to stay right here in New Orleans for the rest of my life. Home is where the heart is after all! _

That sentence took Angel by surprise. How could Alastor know himself so well? Angel had no idea what his heart wanted, let alone where it was. 

Perhaps some people found their love early.

~~~

There was still business to do, and Angel had to meet the heads of the booze ring every so often, much to his annoyance. At his father’s insistence, if he was going to ‘pretend to be a boy’ and be part of the family, he had to act the part so he had to wear full suits in the stuffy southern weather and suffer through the heat of the labs.

As he idled, waiting for the next batch to come through, he chatted with the informant that had clued them into the skimming going on.

“So… What’s with the serial killer on the news?” He asked. “Someone botching a cover job?”

The informant, a thin and weasley man with sharp eyes and a chipped tooth, shook his head.

“He’s not one of ours. We have no idea who he is.”

Angel raised an eyebrow. So there was a serial killer running around in the background to all this? Damn.

“Tried to catch him?”

“Have we ever. Took out one of our best guys, we think, but we can’t find anything. Nothing. Most of the bodies are never found. Leading theory is he feeds em to the gators.”

“Huh.”

“I’d watch your back in this town kid, guy doesn’t have a type. People just vanish. Nobody’s safe.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

~~~

Angel was four days into his trip and he was… A little obsessed.

The alcohol ring was as slow as ever and Angel’s many, many hours of free time were being poured into listening to Alastor on the radio. He whiled away hours and hours at the kitchen table, just taking him in.

At first he’d attempted to multitask and at least keep up the appearance of doing anything other than sitting there and daydreaming about the man behind that voice, but he gave up on it quickly. Not as if there was anyone here to judge him anyway. 

He’d dedicated those hours to memorizing all the little factoids Alastor had shared about himself.

His favorite colour was red, he liked to hunt, he didn’t care for sweets but the beignets done by the cafe on the waterfront were the best in town. His hair was hard to tame into something presentable, he had to get up early to get into town in the morning, he was a food enthusiast.

Angel lapped it all up like he was starving, maybe he  _ was _ . Angel had never needed to feel close to someone like this before. It was like tasting water after living in drought, and he couldn’t look away. He would spend all day with Alastor and the radio, and then do his dealings at night, catching sleep in the hours in between.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep, maybe it was euphoria, but after a few days Angel started to feel weirdly floaty when he heard Alastor’s voice. 

It felt intimate and precious, listening to Alastor all day, across the table from the radio, like they were sitting together. Just him and Alastor. The thought brought a flush across his face and made something in his chest flutter. At some point the illusion had become comforting, like a warm blanket over his loud thoughts about his body not fitting right or his family never quite getting him. He wondered if listening to Alastor in person would make them disappear entirely. He got up in the morning and slipped on a bright red flapper dress, the brightest and prettiest one he owned, and thought about Alastor feeling his thoughts through the radio. If that one on one connection really was one on one. The feelings were intense and hot and left him feeling like there was a blazing inferno in his chest. Intense and bright and like he’d never be cold or scared again.

Angel slipped his left hand into his right and pretended that the warm fingers entwined were someone else’s.

~~~

Of course, it wasn’t a one on one connection. It was all a figment, a fantasy, and it couldn’t last. This inevitable hollowing of Angel’s mood came from a segment where Alastor would read out letters sent into the station. Some were pleas, just things people wanted to get onto the radio, others were announcements or questions, but there were more than a few confessions to Alastor. People reaching out to him, telling him how he touched their lives.

_ ‘Dear Alastor, you’re the only thing that makes the work-week bearable. I convinced my boss to get a radio for the office and everyone is quite taken with your show! Thank you for being there for us!’ Oh well golly, isn’t that sweet. I’m happy to be here for all you happy listeners, save you from the monotone of the week! No worse way to die than from boredom, ha! _

_ ‘The way you speak is so very soothing, I’m nursing a baby at the moment and your voice puts her right to sleep. I don’t know how I would survive without it!’  _

_ There’s another one here, that’s… Oh my. Um… Was this approved by the director? This is most certainly not radio appropriate language! Sorry my dear, but there’s none of that here. _

Angel frowned as he listened to Alastor reading and felt a sudden spike of jealousy followed by a swoop of grief and horror with a realisation. How he felt... It wasn't special. Not at all. Hundreds, maybe thousands of people listened to Alastor the same days he did. They heard the same things he did, they knew as much about Alastor as he did, probably more as they’d been listening longer.

The illusion of intimate meetings and closeness was shattered and Angel felt cold.

~~~

Molly called him later that night. 

Officially it was so he could report on the status of the booze distributors and whether or not they were on track. Who was collecting money and whether there was as much as there should be.

Unofficially it was so he could bitch to his twin. They had sped through business to talk about fun, once the pleasantries were out of the way, and Angel was finally allowed to unload about the annoyances of his trip.

“It’s so hot, Molls, you don’t even know. I would take last winter over this. The bog stinks up the whole town, and you can’t get  _ anywhere _ without walking.”

He could practically hear Molly rolling her eyes on the other end of the line. Sitting by the wall phone behind her desk, probably in some cute little getup while she waited for the last of the boys to leave so she could go home and get some sleep.

“Sounds just awful, Angie.” She said. Her voice was sweet, but annoyingly knowing. “But ya got that tone on. You’re complaining to avoid something. So mind telling me what’s  _ really _ on your mind?”

Angel groaned. 

“You know me too well, that’s the damn problem. Should stop talking to ya…” 

He muttered as he glanced around. This house should be more than secure, but you could never be too careful. Even ‘girls’ who were ‘supposed to like boys’ could get landed in hot water if someone who had seen Angel in pants was listening in.

“There’s a guy here.”

He eventually admitted, after ensuring the place was clear and empty. The excited squealing on the other end of the line had him wincing and pulling the phone away from his ear until his sister had it out of her system.

“You found yourself a fella? Oh Angie, you dog, it’s only been four days! Tell me all about him!”

Angel chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his head.

“Hey now, he ain’t  _ my _ fella. Just… He’s a radio host here. He just talks and talks for hours and it feels like he lit a fire in your chest. The first time I heard him I couldn’t get him outta my head until I heard it again, like when Jason says he just can’t stop smoking even though he wants to. Just thinking about him makes me dizzy. Molls, you should hear it. He has the most amazing voice… Makes me feel invincible. So small and safe, but powerful at the same time. He’s… Breathtaking.”

Angel was indeed feeling a little breathless. Just recounting Alastor to Molly had stolen the air from his lungs. He panted a little, trying to calm his frantic heart.

Molly was quiet on the other side. When she spoke up again, her voice was a little uncertain. Angel wondered if he'd come on too strong. The cold feeling was creeping back in as thoughts of Alastor mingled with the knowledge that Alastor didn’t feel the same way at all and never would.

“G- golly Angie, this sounds… Intense…”

“He’s  _ amazing.” _

“Well then... Why don’t you try to meet him?”

Angel’s mind came to a screeching halt.

“Meet him? I don’t even know what he looks like.”

“Catch him after work or something, Angie. Get creative. Make it look like an accident. Drop your purse or something. It’s how I met Arnold.”

“I don’t think that’s the best example.”

“True, he was a bad fella, but it worked for getting a first date.”

~~~

That conversation was the reason he was here now, in a cafe at half seven in the afternoon and watching the door to the radio station. 

It was now Sunday. He’d been busy figuring out where everything was and how to get anywhere in this city without trains or cars. He’d made it eventually, although he’d made the mistake of trying to walk from his house to the main square and now his feet hurt like he’d shot them.

Alastor had been happy on the air today. Happier than usual. That might have been inappropriate, given he was reporting on yet more disappearances, put down yet again to the mysterious killer. But even so, Angel found it infectious. He still had the remnants of a grin on his face as he tapped his nails on the table gently.

People came and went from the building regularly. For all he knew, he’d seen Alastor already and didn’t know it. But somehow he doubted it. 

When he saw Alastor, he would know.

He was waiting for another hour before anything happened, and perhaps predictably, he heard him before he saw him.

“-ee you tomorrow Craig!”

A shot of fire danced through Angel at the sound of that voice and he focused on it’s source.

A man in smart black slacks and a white shirt was slinging a coat over his shoulder and waving to presumably a co-worker as they parted ways. A red vest was like a splash of crimson on his breast, catching the eye. Angel’s eye especially.

Time seemed to slow as he looked and saw the face, Alastor’s face, the face of the voice that had ruined him so beautifully.

His skin was dark. Surprisingly so. Angel was no stranger to people of all colors and creeds, but it was rare to get someone so clearly mixed (at least) in a high profile job like radio. But it did nothing to diminish Alastor’s beauty. His smile shone bright as the sun, teeth white against his skin and his eyes were dark and intense. 

Angel was in awe. 

He was frozen. He’d meant to stand, pass Alastor in the street, perhaps take Molly’s advice and pretend to drop something so he could get Alastor’s attention. But honestly? Right now all he could do was gawk.

Angel had no idea what he’d expected Alastor to look like, but he was somehow perfect. Like he couldn’t imagine him looking any other way.

His heart was pounding and his head was ringing. The urge, the need, to get closer was almost painful. It was like his body was seizing up. Was he having a heart attack? A panic attack?  _ Both? _ It didn’t feel like either… It was kind of like being kicked in the chest by a horse.

He was so perfect it hurt.

By the time Angel pulled himself together, Alastor was gone.

He had no idea where he went.

Shit.

Angel was still struggling to breathe. Seeing Alastor had  _ burned _ , but it had been so good.

He had to see him again.

He just had to.

~~~

That night Angel’s dreams were filled with bright smiles and that haunting voice. He woke several times in a cold sweat, looking around desperately like he was looking for a ghost.

Alastor’s absence gaped like a wound and Angel knew he needed more.

Tomorrow he would take action.

Starting by finding out where Alastor lived.


	2. The Second Week - Ever Closer, Deer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the second week, Angel grows more obsessive by the day. After watching a fateful encounter in the swamp, he comes to the realisation that there's a lot of things about Alastor that he doesn't know, and he's less content with that than he thought.

Angel came back to the station the next day. He listened to Alastor’s show from the same cafe, nursing coffee and pastries and watching the door with an eagle eye. He didn’t even feel uncomfortable, even though he’d barely moved all day. 

When Alastor finished with the broadcast, Angel sat up a little straighter. It would still be at least half an hour before Alastor walked out that door, but the time for relaxation was over. He was ‘on the job’ now. Archie always said that a real mafioso was ‘always on the job’, but that’s why Archie was the favorite. Too much of Angel just didn’t fit in that mold. The overflow had to go somewhere.

But for now, it would do. He didn’t have the time to fawn over Alastor the way he would like to anyway, he knew this would have to be a case of look and don’t touch, tragic as that was. Alastor could never be his. 

Angel just wanted to play pretend for a little while.

Almost two hours after his show ended, Alastor walked out those doors. Angel felt his blood freeze and the burning in his chest ignite all over again. It left him breathless. He fought the temptation to collapse into it and let the inferno engulf him.

Job to do.

In the time it had taken him to get himself under control, Alastor had crossed the street and was walking down the road. He didn’t let his eye stray from Alastor as he daintily got to his feet and followed from a distance. He made sure to vanish into the crowd a few times, just to make sure Alastor didn’t notice him following behind.

On the way home, Alastor stopped in a coffee shop and ordered some sort of pastry and a small coffee. Angel figured it would be somewhat too suspicious to follow him in, so Angel sat himself down on a nearby bench and watched. Alastor sat near the front and smiled at the woman working the counter, chatting friendlily with her. Watching it made his stomach churn and Angel could feel his teeth start to ache. He was grinding them very hard.

Alastor wasn’t treating the woman overly special, but she sure was fawning like she was aiming to get lucky. The woman was leaning forward, and her eyes were half lidded and seductive. Who the  _ fuck _ did she think she was? Looking at Alastor like that… what a whore. And not in the good way. Angel realised the inside of his cheek was bleeding when a burst of his blood soaked his tongue. The flash of pain grounded him a little. Enough to notice that Alastor was backing away a bit. He looked rather startled by the woman’s advances. Maybe even a little uncomfortable, not that she seemed to have noticed. He made his excuses, wolfed down his food, and left the cafe.

Angel got to his feet and followed.

Good riddance

~~~

Angel continued to follow at a distance for a good long while. Alastor lived out of the city and some ways into the swamps. Angel begrudged this a little, as the crowds thinned it was harder to hide, and his shoes got sucked into the muck on the ground. 

Some ways into the swamp, Angel’s foot got caught in a gnarled mangrove root and he landed face first in the mud, a tangle of some swamp plant digging into his gut. He let out a grunt and then froze, eyes wide. Had Alastor heard that?

He pressed himself low to the ground and tried to sidle up next to the very tree that tripped him. Not long after, he heard footsteps approaching.

“Hello? Anyone out there?” Alastor called from right above him. “I do hope nobody’s caught out there in the swamps!”

When Alastor received no reply, he seemed to accept it and step away.

“Yes, wouldn’t that just be  _ awful.” _

Angel heard Alastor snicker to himself. Much more… amused than genuine. Angel frowned. That was… Odd. Maybe an old joke Alastor knew? He didn’t get it, but then again, Alastor was smart and had grown up in this area. Angel didn’t get everything about him.

Not yet anyway.

Angel knew Alastor was canny to his presence now, even if he wasn’t actively looking for anyone, so he thought it best to wait a little while before following behind. Unfortunately, when he poked his head out, he seemed to have lost Alastor entirely.

He bit his lip, wondering if he should turn back. He was soaked in mud from tripping and after a little while of wandering about, it was starting to get dark. Mosquitoes were having a free for all, all over him, and while he was pretty sure he could find his way back, no guarantees he would be quick.

Just as he was beginning to lose hope, he heard something.

Following it, he realised it was music, and singing. It led him to a humble but cozy looking cabin, nestled into the bayou like it had grown there from a seed. Rich, dark wood with vines creeping up the walls. The windows were open and warm light spilled from them. A smooth, peppy voice that he knew very well did too, singing along to Louis Armstrong’s  _ ‘Saint James Infirmary’. _ Angel crept as close as he dared, sneaking around the back to see if he could catch a glimpse of Alastor through a window. 

He eventually found a window that led into a kitchen. The place was gleaming with well cared for appliances. The smells emanating from the place were enough to make his stomach growl in protest to him not inviting himself in.

Alastor was there, back to the window and sleeves rolled up to show tanned forearms working the crank of a sausage machine. Swaying gently to the song as he presumably made himself dinner. Angel couldn’t see perfectly, the angle wasn’t good, but he could imagine Alastor’s deft hands, watching his shoulders and back work as he fed something red and glistening into the machine. The meat must be home-kill because he was getting it from plastic bags rather than packaging, and Angel wondered if he hunted,

Angel sighed and leaned in closer, trying to get a better look. His blood felt like it was on fire, sticky and hot like caramel and making him burn from the inside in the best way.

_ This. _ This was what he wanted. The moments nobody else got to see.

Right now it was just him. Him and Alastor. 

And it was perfect.

~~~

When Alastor left the kitchen and Angel couldn’t find him again, he knew it was time to take his leave. It was well dark now and Angel knew he needed to head back to the city. Still he took one last fervent look at the cabin.

At least he knew where it was now.

He’d come back again soon.

In the meantime, it was time for him to go. He whispered a goodnight to Alastor under his breath and left.

~~~

The next day, he followed Alastor home again.

He’d told himself he would wait just a few days, but after a shitstorm of a day and being informed that Molly wouldn't be able to talk to him despite them planning it days in advance, the temptation to put his newly freed afternoon to better use was just too good to resist. So he followed as he did the first time, and then again the day after that.

Every time, Alastor would leave the station and walk to the cafe on the waterfront. He would talk with the cashier and the harlot would shamelessly flirt with Alastor, like she thought she actually deserved a chance or even a second look from him. Alastor would order something to eat and a black coffee, before walking home and making himself a proper dinner. It was… Nice. He thought of it as almost walking Alastor home. Like he was protecting his unsuspecting radio host from harm. There had to be some merits to his upbringing, right?

Angel leaned closer to the window as Alastor braised some sort of meat inside. The smells were delightful. Rich and savory. Angel fantasised about sitting at Alastor’s table. Feeding him, perhaps, or being fed? Would Alastor let Angel cook, or would he insist? Would Alastor sing to him, dance like he did when he thought he was alone?

Angel hid his smile and let those thoughts carry him through the day.

A few daring ventures had even been made into the cabin, once or twice. Pocketing spoons and clothes, nothing Alastor would miss. He was always careful. Nothing damaged to the point of memorability or clearly brand new. Things that faded into the background.

Alastor’s scent clung to the shirts. His mouth had touched those spoons… The domesticity of it drove Angel mad.

After a long meeting and actually having to give his pistols a workout, Angel was ready to indulge in his nightly ritual and “escort” Alastor home safely, perhaps even pinch one of the worn tablecloths Alastor kept in the third drawer when his dearest host went to bed.

He knew the routine by now, and he decided to forgo following Alastor from the station in favour of actually being able to go into the cafe. A few minutes before Alastor would arrive, he took a seat and picked out a sandwich to nibble on as he waited. Five minutes later, Alastor walked in right on cue.

He sat in his usual place. Just a few tables from where Angel decided to place himself. Not right next to him, or Alastor might watch what he said and Angel wanted Alastor pure and unfiltered, but close enough that Alastor could see the gleam of Alastor’s cuff buttons and watch his hands flex as he tapped his fingernails on the table.

Those intimate little things that made Angel melt just a little more.

As usual, Alastor struck up a conversation with the cashier, and for once Angel was close enough to hear what he was saying, even though he spoke lowly. Angel pretended to be absorbed in the book he’d brought along and listened carefully. He bathed in the sound of Alastor’s voice like it was a warm rain, but the things he was saying made the experience quickly sour.

“Are you still available for our meeting tonight, Miss Herring?”

“Of course. I’ve been looking forward to it all week.”

“I’m glad to hear it! Although please remember not to tell!” Alastor said with a wink. “I know you want to tell your roommate, but the gossip mill does move so fast.. Besides, I would prefer some… Privacy. For our first time.”

Silky smooth and charming as ever, Alastor didn’t even know he was ripping Angel’s heart from his chest.

Meeting? First time?

Angel knew that Alastor didn’t know him. That the love that burned between them was destined to remain hidden from Alastor. But it had somehow never occurred to him that Alastor might… Seek someone else. That there’d be a person in Alastor’s life that he would want to share those private moments with.

It froze Angel’s blood in his veins and made him feel ill.

“Not to worry, you. I told Sally I’m going to visit my gran out of the city. Nobody’s expecting me.”

“Excellent. Nobody to disturb us.”

Angel scowled behind his book 

We’ll just see about that.

~~~

Angel followed somebody else home that night.

~~~

Angel stuck to Miss Angaline Herring like glue that night. He made sure to stay out of sight, but also ensured she went nowhere without him knowing.

He waited by her door, just out of sight, and when she left all dolled up, he followed, fingering the gun in his jacket.

The date tonight was gonna have a little crash, one way or another.

He followed the young woman as she walked down the street to the less populated areas of town, till the city peeled away to swamplands. Angel was, for the first time, relieved that Louisiana didn’t appear to be built for cars, she would have been much harder to tail if she’d caught a cab.

She walked to a small dock where Alastor was waiting with his arms behind his back.

Hiding behind a tree, Angel’s breath was momentarily knocked out of his lungs. Alastor made a gorgeous figure there in the waning light. Pinstriped jacket in a deep red with sleek trousers and bright bursts of white and gold in his shirt and pocket square.

He was… Radiant.

“Ah, Angeline. I was waiting.”

Alastor’s voice was warm and rich and Angel felt like he was floating. Their names were similar enough that it was easy to lose himself in the fantasy that Alastor was talking to him. He took her hand and kissed it lightly and Angel both felt murderous and like he would pass out right there. It was fantasy material, like the princes Angel used to dream would whisk him away when he was little. Could Alastor talk to him like that? Touch him like that? Could it ever be so? His heart felt like it was breaking, so close yet so far, like he was mere hairs from salvation.

“Oh Alastor, you are such a charmer, although this is a strange spot for a… meeting.”

Herring was blushing, and it was clear she meant it as a euphemism for something else, but Alastor didn’t seem to notice. 

“I thought we could take a picnic, my dear. Dining alfresco before we return to my abode.”

The blush was back, and Angel was picturing putting a bullet between her eyes right here and now. He had initially planned to ‘accidentally stumble across their date’ but as they got more secluded, and the more Alastor looked at  _ her _ in the way that was meant for  _ him _ , the temptation to just shoot her and call it a hunting accident got stronger and stronger.

Still...

Patience.

~~~

“Oh it’s beautiful…”

“It is, isn’t it?”

The clearing was indeed beautiful. The full moon reflected on the water, lighting up the nearby trees. Fireflies danced above the water and the willow tree had lanterns and candles scattered among its roots. Angel had been careful to hide in the shadows and out of the line of sight of either of them.

Angel imagined being there, nestled among the roots , lit by flame and at Alastor’s side.

It wasn’t to be.

It was painful knowing that. 

He squeezed his eyes shut. Focus, he had a job to do. 

He carefully took up his pistol. He would have to be careful. Wait for a time when there was absolutely no chance he could hit Alastor by accident. He slipped the bullets into the casings, one by one. They made soft clinks each time, and he froze, making sure the two hadn’t noticed before continuing. Just one more-

“Alastor?” 

Angel stayed perfectly still, wondering if he'd been spotted. But Alastor’s… companion wasn’t looking at him. She was watching the water, where a few dark shapes had begun approaching the shore. 

“We need to get out of here… I think those are…”

A spike of sharp concern suddenly pierced his stomach. What were those shapes? Miss Herring sounded scared and Angel’s head was suddenly filled with terrifying thoughts of Alastor being in danger. Alastor getting hurt, Alastor dying… The thought paralyzed him. His fingers are cold and white around the gun.

Angel peered a little further out of his hiding place. The shapes were at the sand now and five sleek, scaled bodies were wandering the water’s edge.

Angel felt sick.

He had a gun, would that do anything? If he ran out there would he be able to stop them? Long enough for Alastor to get away… He couldn’t even move. Fear had frozen him. His heart was pounding and his throat was closing up. Maybe if he-

“No need to worry my dear!” Alastor had, at some point, slipped into the shadows, away from the lights at the tree. “They’re rather used to me. They’re just here to see if they can get a bite to eat.”

“What do you-”

Alastor slunk out of the shadows, a knife in his hands catching the moonlight and gleaming.

“I did say we would be dining alfresco, did I not?”

~~~

Now this was an interesting development.

Angel watched, entranced as Alastor cut the woman up with practiced ease. He tossed his scraps to the alligators, who snapped any and all offerings happily. They didn’t approach, just waited from a distance like they knew food would come their way if they waited.

Just how often did Alastor do this?

Angel had thought Alastor looked good before, but he had no idea how wrong he was, because nothing could compare to Alastor in the same outfit, bloodspattered and smiling as wide and happy as could be. He hadn’t realised just how… fake Alastor’s smile had been, how strained, until now. Seeing a true delighted grin on his face.

He noted that Alastor didn’t throw everything to the gators; meat, organs, and blood were carefully wrapped in familiar plastic bags. Angel shivered with the realization of Alastor’s feeding habits.

Oh that was surprisingly appealing… 

A thought to examine later.

In the meantime he sat back to watch the show.

~~~

Angel got back home exhausted. 

By this point there was light and he collapsed on his bed, only flicking on the radio before letting Alastor’s voice soothe him to sleep. Angel had no idea how the man did it, considering he knew Alastor had been up all night.

Just another thing that made Alastor perfect, he supposed.

~~~

Angel dreamed of a knife to his flesh. Of a bright smile above him, cutting him open and licking the blood off the knife. The voice over him making comments. Telling him he looked beautiful like this. A long tongue licked blood off the blade and hummed a little tune.

It hurt so good.

Hands on his skin, stripping him bare to get better access to his organs. Ribs breaking, flesh tearing…

His head was cut clean off and carried carefully into a familiar cabin. His face was stroked as the head was lovingly placed in a fridge.

_ “Goodnight, my love.” _

The door closed and he was plunged into darkness.

~~~

Angel woke up shivering, pleasant tingling all over his body. 

Angel rocked himself a little in his bed. He felt so… Empty after these dreams. He clenched his fists a few times. After watching Alastor’s little… session in the swamp, he’d had dreams starring Alastor’s bloodier side. They’d left him even more tempted and despondent than the dreams before. 

His second week here was almost done. It was friday morning. To think that three weeks had seemed like such a long time before. Now..

Now his chest was aching. He would have to leave Alastor behind, and with every passing day, he felt like it grew less and less possible. Not without something… more.

He wanted something to remember Alastor by. For  _ Alastor _ to remember him. He couldn’t come and go unseen. It was just… Wrong. They were meant for more. Destined for more. He knew it. He just needed to… Get his attention. 

His  _ undivided  _ attention. 

Just for a little while. He only had little over a week, after all.

But Alastor was a busy man, and from what Angel had seen, he wouldn’t be welcome in Alastor’s home. Nobody went in whole, from what he’d observed. Well… nobody Alastor knew about.

He ran his fingers over a stitched seam on one of Alastor’s stolen shirts. The stitches were neat, tiny, and even. He’d watched Alastor sew this one himself. It had ripped and Angel had been expecting to fish it from the trash, but instead Alastor had fixed it with a honed and loving skill. 

Angel hadn’t been able to resist.

He hadn't known Alastir could sew. Until recently he hadn't known Alastor could kill either. So much he didn't know... 

He went on stroking the shirt, contemplating.

His lack of knowledge made him feel hollow. He wanted his mind to be filled with Alastor. Just Alastor. He wanted more than anything to know and be known inside and out by that man.

He knew what he needed to do. 

Well, he knew what he  _ wanted _ to do, but he didn’t know if he should.

He needed, just for a while, to be close to Alastor. To know him and to be known. Everybody else in this damn city could have him for the rest of their lives. Angel had limited time he had to make the most of.

That made it fair, right?

It would be fine.

~~~

The house he was staying in had a basement. Standard procedure for dens, in case you needed to… interview someone. That would come in handy.

Angel spent the next two days getting it ready for a very special guest. 

A bottle of chloroform sat, ready for using, next to cotton ropes so nothing would bruise. It all came together quickly, a routine Angel had done before, but this time accentuated by the thrill of it being more than just  _ work _ . This was for love. Which was better. Infinitely better.

When all was ready, he was buzzing with both excitement and nerves, as he went to borrow a car from the local family. 

They didn’t ask questions. That was fine with him.

He drove it to near Alastor’s cabin. Not far enough that it would be a trek with his precious cargo, but not close enough Alastor would hear it coming. He waited until Alastor would be cleaning up after dinner before slipping in through the lower floor window he’s crawled through so many times before.

~~~

In the end it was very simple. Alastor was at ease in his home. Comfortable. In the kitchen, all his senses were engaged and getting to a hiding spot was easy. All it took was waiting, drugged cloth in hand, behind the hallway door and waiting for Alastor to head towards his bedroom.

There had been a few brief seconds where Alastor had delicately sniffed a few times and Angel had thought he’d smelled the chloroform, but he had simply needed to sneeze. Unsurprising. Angel had been able to smell the steak au poivre from his hiding spot.

Alastor had gone limp in his arms almost instantly, breathing in sharply with surprise when Angel had come behind him and just making the drug more effective. The hand that had clamped around his wrist had been bruisingly strong, and had Angel been trying to wrestle Alastor into submission he would have been a goner, but as it was, Alastor went down easy.

With him limp and unconscious in his arms, Angel was riding a high. Alastor was touching him, asleep trustingly in his arms.

“Let’s get home, hmm?” He asked fondly. “I can’t wait to introduce myself properly.”

There would have to be talk of business before they could really get intimate, but Angel hoped he would be able to get that over with quickly. He didn’t want this to be business, Alastor was so much more than just a job. 

As he walked back through the house, a gleam of silver caught his attention.

On the chopping block was a knife.

The knife.

After nights and nights of watching Alastor in the kitchen, Angel had stared and stared at that knife.

At first it had seemed to be the knife Alastor never used, but kept in pride of place anyway. Now Angel knew that it was the knife he used for… Butchering. He held it so reverently, like it was sacred. Angel wanted Alastor to look at him like he looked at that knife. Angel wanted to be  _ under _ that knife.

Angel had had dreams about that knife.

In a moment of impulse, he took it. He examined it carefully. It had a bone handle and was  _ wickedly  _ sharp. Wrapping it in a towel, he slipped it into his bag with all the care he handled Alastor himself with.

Just in case.

~~~

Angel was rarely the one who did interrogations back home.  _ “The family has far more intimidating people than a girl with delusions.”  _ as his father would say. Angel would bite his lip and say nothing because he knew his father was right, there were scarier people in the web. 

But that didn’t mean he didn’t know how to do it. Besides, anyone looks scary when you’re tied to a chair.

“Here’s how things are gonna go.” He said, trying to channel what he’d seen Vinnie and Oscar do in the past. He tried not to let his voice waver. Be firm and clear with what you want. Make it sound simple. “I’m not in town long, but… While I am here, I want you to keep me company.”

Alastor cocked his head, an eyebrow raised. He’d seemed worried before, not quite scared, but concerned. Maybe he knew on some level that Angel didn’t want to hurt him? That was a nice thought. 

“Company?”

Angel tried to ignore the shivers that went down his spine at the sounds of that voice. Untouched by radio static and completely and wholly  _ his _ in this moment.

“Yes.” Angel hissed. “I can’t take just hearing you through the radio anymore, only seeing you from a distance... Can’t take  _ sharing _ you anymore. I tried to push through it, but I  _ can’t _ . So I wanna make a deal.”

“A… A deal?”

The tone was somewhat disbelieving, slipping away from concern and towards incredulity. 

“I leave on the 7th. That’s eight days from now. Until then, I just… Want you to talk.” Angel felt his intimidating persona start to slide away as he made his case, bore his heart to Alastor. “Talk to me. Only to me. Be mine, and let me be yours. Just for a little while. I’ve… Never needed anyone like I need you.”

Alastor made a small snorting noise in the back of his throat and Angel felt the snub in his chest. He let out an angry sigh through his nose.

“All I want you to do is talk to me.” Angel said, sitting primly across from Alastor and leaning in. “I promise it won’t be difficult. And- And I promise after that you’ll never see me again.”

Saying it was like ripping his own heart from his chest, but it was unfortunately true, and he would do whatever it took to have his moment with Alastor. 

“Oh? And how do you know I won’t immediately go to the police with a description?”

Alastor asked. His voice was smooth, his cadence unfettered by his situation. Probably years of practice so he wouldn’t stumble while live on the air.

Angel loved that voice.

“I think it would be better for both of us if you simply let me go now, and we can forget this ever happened.”

“No!” 

Angel snapped, before taking a breath. 

“No.”

He repeated himself to affirm it. Clenching his hands a little.

“You won’t go to the police because you don’t want attention on you. My family doesn’t take kindly to snitches. Besides, half of Miss Herring is still in your fridge.”

That made Alastor stiffen, a bolt of panic clearly going through him.

It hurt him to distress the radio host so, of course it did, but he  _ needed _ this. The thought of going back to New York next week and never hearing Alastor’s voice again was agony. He would prefer tortue and torment to a world where he had nothing to remember Alastor by. A world where he and Alastor may as well have not existed. It was a painful thought, and while he knew it would be better if he just moved on, he knew he couldn’t. It simply wasn’t an option anymore.

If anything, it was Alastor’s fault for being so damn alluring.

“Come on, please? Just a week or so, I promise… It’ll be like being at work, you'll see!” A tinge of desperation crept into his voice, He really didn’t want to do this the hard way. He half lidded his eyes, a slow, seductive smirk curling onto his face. “I’ll even make it worth your while, if you like?”

Angel noted the distinct shudder and Alastor leaning back, trying to get as far away as he could. He frowned and got out of Alastor’s face. That was worth examining, but later. It could be about his gender presentation, it could be due to an interest in someone else, or it could be a total lack of interest all together. Each of those would have to be approached differently, so Angel would leave it for now.

Patience was the name of the game here. 

Although the circumstances were so, so different, Angel knew his way around an interrogation session. He knew ways of making people talk. And while he absolutely didn’t plan on hurting a hair on Alastor’s beautiful head, there were other ways to get a man singing.

He sighed.

“I really don’t wanna have to do this, Alastor. Please play nice. It’s just over a week, then you can go on your way and I’ll… I’ll be gone.” He held up his hands, trying to inject all his love and sincerity into his voice so Alastor could hear it. He hoped it would make a difference. That Alastor would see the adoration Angel had for him and just do this one thing…

He could see the gears turning, the man weighing his options, before Alastor looked him in the eye. Dark eyes intense as flame, as he deliberately turned his head away, not saying a word.

Angel felt his shoulders slump at the rejection. He’d expected it, but it still stung.

“I’m really sorry, Alastor.”

He said quietly, before flicking out his switchblade. 

He saw Alastor’s eyes widen and while he didn’t struggle, long fingers started to grasp at the ropes more desperately. But Angel had told no lies when he said he wasn’t going to hurt him. Instead of butting the blade to Alastor’s flesh, he took it to his skirts, cutting away thick strips of fabric and knotting the center of it the way Archie had shown him.

“But until you speak for me, I can’t let you speak at all.”

He got closer and Alastor firmly clamped his mouth shut, realising what Angel was about to do. He responded by pinching Alastor’s nose shut and waiting, the makeshift gag poised in his other hand. His heart ached when after a while, Alastor’s chest began to convulse and his cheeks began to darken and flush.

Making Alator so uncomfortable hurt, but going without any part Alastor for the rest of his life would hurt more, so he centered himself and tried to stick with it. He just wanted some of Alastor’s voice to take home. To keep with him. Honestly, Alastor should be grateful Angel wasn’t cutting his losses and just taking the man himself, but Alastor had said New Orleans was his home, and Angel would respect that.

He didn’t want to make Alastor unhappy, he really didn’t.

Eventually Alastor’s mouth opened as he took a gasping breath. Angel quickly stuffed the knot into Alastor’s mouth and went to work securing the gag behind his head before he could spit it out.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry….” Angel muttered as he worked. “It’s just until you agree, I’m so sorry, please don’t be upset…”

When he was satisfied the gag was going nowhere, even with Alastor grinding his teeth and trying to spit it out, Angel stepped back. He was pinned with a ferocious glare that promised harm if the host was ever given ample opportunity. While Angel would happily lie back and let Alastor maim and devour him, he knew his family would never stand for that, besides that would mean leaving Alastor forever in death. So it wasn’t an option.

“Wh- When you’re ready to… Let me know when you want me to take it out, so we can start.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angel tries to be all buisiness, but I assure you he's squealing on the inside. Gotta be professional before you can have fun... And fun will be had. No sexytimes tho. That's not my jam.


	3. Alastor’s Interlude - That Damning Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A peek behind Alastor's eyes as he learns what kind of person he's up against, and is punished for his pride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, this one just Did Not Want To Happen but here it is! I'm on summer hiolidays now so hopefully the next few chapters will come smoother. Please tell me if you enjoy Al's POV, he might get another interlude later if people enjoy it.

It had been many, many years since Alastor had panicked.

There’d been a split second when he’d felt a cloth slam against his mouth and an arm snake around his chest. Even as his hand shot up to pull the hand away, the sudden shock of it had drawn a gasp out of him and it was already too late. His head was light and he could feel himself falling.

Someone had gotten the drop on him in the safety of his own home. He could almost respect that.

He only hoped that if they planned on killing him, they’d make it good. Hum drum deaths were such a bore to read in the morning news.

When he had woken from his drugged unconsciousness tied securely to a chair in a dark room with no windows, he’d thought that was it. That he was witnessing his last few moments of living before he took the final plunge and kicked the bucket.

He didn’t know what he was expecting. A vengeful relative, perhaps? Or another killer like himself… Some part of him didn’t expect to wake up at all. But Alastor could say with absolute certainty that he hadn’t been expecting  _ this _ . 

He knew stories, of course, of fanatics obsessing over celebrity figures. He’d read plenty of them for his show, and had even received some… interesting letters at the station. But he never believed it would actually happen to him. He’d thought himself too strong, After all, hadn’t he killed so many before waltzing back into work the next day and reporting the deaths? Hadn’t there been so many that wanted to, if not break free, then drag him down with them, only to meet the same fate as the others? He’d thought himself untouchable.

Perhaps that was his hubris. 

And now, here he sat, bound to a chair while a pale creature that seemed to walk the border of male and female wanted him to sing like a caged bird.

Alastor was not a man who was easily cowed, however, and he didn’t feel the need to abide by any request this person (perhaps a man if his manner was an indication, even despite the skirt) might decide to make of him. No matter how odd they were. The man didn’t seem interested in killing him, yet at least. There were thinly veiled threats, to be sure, but nothing acutely menacing. Hopefully if this man was in it for the long haul, Alastor could poise to strike and make his escape. It would only take a moment of inattention for Alastor to turn the tables, he was sure. He was strong, the man slight, and Alastor was more than used to fighting in close quarters. Alastor had killed so many people, and it hadn’t always gone smoothly, but he’d made it out every time so far.

And if things truly went south, if it turned out to be that it was his lot to die here, then...

Well a grand death was better than a bad one, and at least it would hopefully give to police a headache.

So he made his refusal clear and pointedly did not speak, for once in his life.

The man then drew a  _ blade _ and Alastor had only mere moments to regret his decision.

It was a small switchblade, but there was no such thing as a blade too small to kill, just a blade too small to kill  _ quickly. _

He coiled and prepared to swing himself away with all his might, perhaps the chair would break- But instead of metal to his skin, Alastor found his nose pinched firmly shut as the man levied a makeshift gag. Alastor was stubborn, and a good swimmer, so he could hold his breath a while. Still, every person needed to breathe, and when he gasped in a quick breath, the man moved quickly. He apologies, but Alastor wasn’t feeling too forgiving.

Alastor bit and gnashed against the fabric, but to absolutely no avail.

“Wh- When you’re ready to… Let me know when you want me to take it out, so we can start.”

And thus began the waiting game.

~~~

At first, Alastor thought it would be easy. 

Time alone. Time to figure out how to get out of this chair and out of here. Into the world again. Besides, he liked his own company. The gag was uncomfortable, sure, the ropes even more so, but he’d be fine. And for the first few hours, he was.

And then he wasn’t.

Alastor was never the kind of person that responded to boredom very well. As a child he would disappear into the bayou whenever he was left unattended too long, and that was only after he was told to stop playing inside lest he break every window in the house. He hadn’t changed muc as he grew older, although his forms of entertainment had started to creep from the morbid to the homicidal. He’d learned patience through the thrill of the hunt, learned manners through hiding them, but he’d never quite figured out how to deal with boredom.

That was working against him now.

The hours ran together and slowed to a thick, sticky crawl. He began to fidget as his struggles got him nowhere and he started to get bored of trying to work the knots loose. He instinctively tried to chew on his lip, but he instead dug his teeth into the fabric of the gag. He made an annoyed huff and tried to hum to himself, but the gag had dried out his mouth and stopped him from getting anything even remotely resembling a tune out. He wanted to sing, talk to himself, scream to shatter the silence like a thin layer of ice over water so he could drink in the sound and be rid of the silence.

He gnashed his teeth and closed his eyes shakily.

Perhaps some sleep would do him good.

~~~

He had horrible nightmares about a silent, empty void.

~~~

And so it was, a torturous cycle of waiting and sleeping, nothing to break the agonizing monotony. Sat there in the dark, achingly aware of his pained body. Waiting for something, anything to break the silence.

His gag absorbed his saliva and made him thirsty, and while he had no idea how long it had been, the hearty dinner he had eaten before his abduction was long gone. None of that was particularly pleasant, but it almost felt secondary to the numbing pain of his mind ripping itself apart. He began to see shadows in the dark out of the corner of his eye, and what sounded a little like the howling of whined, although there was no air movement here. He got the distinct illusion of sound, but there was still absolutely nothing there and he knew that too.

He clenched his fists, although it hurt with his wrists having been bound to the armrests so long.

He could no longer trust his own mind, his own eyes. He could feel his rational slipping and there was nothing he could do about it.

~~~

The first thing to break his isolation was the creaking of footsteps on the stairs and Alastor’s eyes widened when he heard it.

At first he thought it was his imagination. He’d been imagining many things recently. A strange scuttling across the floor, lopsided footsteps, even vague impressions of someone calling for him, although they had all been imaginary. There was nothing there. Nothing but the dark and the quiet.

But this was real, supported by the few shafts of dust falling to the floor as the wood creaked towards him. He watched the progress with wide, glazed eyes.

When the door to this specific room opened, light filtered in and it stung his eyes and made them water to the point he had to shut them. He could feel a few tears dribble down his cheeks as footsteps approached, and a soft hand on his cheek wiped away the water.

“Don’t cry, Alastor. Please…” 

Alastor blinked away the tears to look up at his captor. After God knows how long in darkness, the pale stranger seemed to almost glow, ethereal and strange, with a twisted light in his eyes. 

“It’s just a few days, then… We can part ways.”

The stranger seemed so legitimately saddened by this idea, and a wave of anger shook Alastor to his core. How dare he act like this was some great sacrifice on his part. After being trapped in the dark with nothing but the black hole of his own quiet hell, Alastor found the idea that he was being unreasonable about this more than offensive. He enjoyed playing with his food a little, but whatever mind games this madman was playing spiralled straight into torture.

At least Alastor killed quickly.

This man was something far, far more dangerous.

“Are you ready to work with me?”

The gag was not removed. A threat perhaps, or a reminder. Either way Alastor nodded his head, perhaps a tad too eagerly to be dignified but he was too strung out to care. The stranger’s face slipped into something softer, less guarded as a genuinely delighted smile crossed it. 

“Thank you.” It was said carefully, reverently, as the figure kneeled to untie the fabric in his mouth. “There now… I promise you won’t regret this. How about I go get you something. I’m sure you’re parched after two days...”

“A radio. Please.”

“What?”

Alastor slid his gaze away. The corners of his mouth tasted of blood as he licked his lips, rubbed to blistering over his imprisonment. The words had burst out of him without his control. His comfort item above any other. The thing that had been by his side always, even when his favorite blade dulled beyond sharpening, even on that fateful day his mother slipped away… Always a radio to drown out the weight of his own boredom.

“Please, I- ….I despise silence.”

The stranger’s eyes softened even more at the show of vulnerability and stood, touching Alastor’s cheek again lightly. Alastor tried to move away, but his range was limited and the fingers followed.

“Okay. Okay, I can do that. For you, I could do anything… But a radio is a good start.”

The fingers on his cheek had started working small circles and Alastor’s discomfort began to mount, but just as he was about to speak up they vanished.

“Your request was a little unexpected, but I still want to give you food and water. It hurt to make you suffer. It was necessary, but it hurt. I couldn’t stop worrying about it…”

Alastor personally thought that if it worried him so much he should have simply let him go, but he didn’t say that. Alastor was angry, humiliated, but he was no fool. And he was well aware now that he wasn’t out of danger just because this man didn’t plan on killing him yet.

For now, going along with it, and waiting for a prime moment to strike, was by far the wisest course of action.

“I’ll be back in a bit.”

~~~

Alastor had not been hand fed in years, and he could not say that he particularly enjoyed reliving the experience. 

It wasn’t that the food was bad, far from it actually, while not the kind of fare usually served in his hometown the broth’s flavours were light and well spiced. His stomach was flighty after two days with nothing, but the soup warmed him from the inside and settled his body a little.

The man filled him in on what he had been doing while Alastor had suffered his ‘persuasion’, all the while looking at him so adoringly it was near alarming,

“I cleaned up your house, fed the pieces to the alligators. If they search your house looking for you, they won’t find a thing, I promise. Nobody will interrupt us, but you can also go home after this.”

He should be glad to hear this, but it led to a myriad of other, far more concerning questions. Like how this man knew where he kept his tools and meat stores.

The stranger’s hands were careful, ever so soft, as if he was concerned for  _ hurting _ Alastor, of all things. He coaxed Alastor into taking the spoon and sips of water with a soft, mellow voice and between spoonfuls held his hand gently. He even insisted on blowing on the soup so Alastor wouldn’t burn his mouth. 

It was a scene that from the outside could be construed as touching, tender, perhaps even romantic, if one ignored the restraints. But the intimacy of the situation made Alastor superbly uncomfortable, the closeness put his hair on end. As a rule Alastor did not like contact, and this man seemed to be intent on touching him as often as possible. It left his skin buzzing like there were flies under it and it made him want to pick at his arms until they were bloody and raw.

He almost preferred the isolation.

Almost.

Still, the situation, however uncomfortable, had its merits. He hadn’t realised how foggy and instinct his thoughts had been until he had some food and water in him and they sharpened to his usual crystal clarity. Fear had weighed on him, twisted his perception. Isolation and silence driven him to desperation. 

In the time he had been here, he hadn’t made a single good decision. He let terror and pride cloud his judgement, and he knew better than most how foolish that was.

Still, now his facilities were sharper, he needed to consider what he was going to  _ do. _

His captor claimed that in exchange for him simply speaking, he would be returned to freedom in eight- six now, he supposed- days, but he would be insane to assume that the man who had kidnapped him and left him without food or water for two days was telling the truth and would simply let him go out of the kindness of his heart. It could be some game he liked to play, like how Alastor enjoyed a chase. This situation was also precarious and could easily escalate, even if the man  _ was _ telling the truth.

No, Alastor needed to  _ escape _ , but he needed to be clever about it because, among other things, this man had dirt on him. The chief of police was a crotchety old bigot, and no fan of his. Disappearance or no, if word got to the authorities that Alastor was the local killer, they would take it on a rumor and it would all be over.

Ideally, he would kill the man and put his absence down to a nasty illness of some description, too debilitating to walk to the wall phone and call in to the station or draft a letter. But then there was that ‘family’ the man had mentioned.

Everything from the man’s clothing to his accent to his manner said ‘foreigner’, and Alastor would have heard if an entire family of foreigners had moved into the city, plus he kept talking about ‘leaving’, presumably to go home. So they weren’t here at this current time, but what was the point in getting out of here only to be run off or worse by more of the same?

He sighed. All things to consider at a later date. He would have to see what kind of opportunities presented themselves. And be prepared to take whatever came his way.

~~~

He had worried he wouldn't be able to do it, initially, but if there was one thing Alastor could do and do well it was  _ talk. _

Alastor’s captor sat across from him, watching happily as Alastor spoke about any and every thing that sprang to his mind. He didn’t dare stop or object, the gag sitting innocuous on the nearby table like a quiet threat. Thankfully the man didn’t seem to care much about  _ what _ he said as long as he was speaking, so he rehashed old radio stories and things other people had told him. Let himself get lost in winding tangents about anything from music to radio waves to wars and anything in between.

Nothing personal, nothing vulnerable. He avoided topics of himself and his mother, his murders and his homelife. Mostly out of habit, but he would be damned before he shared his private life with this man. 

He talked and talked and talked, with the occasional sip of water at his captor’s insistence, until his voice was scratchy and his eyelids drooped. There was a scraping of a chair against the floor as the man stood, taking his face in his hand and stroking his cheekbone.

“You did so well.” His captor said. “You have no idea how much this means to me. Thank you.”

Alastor gave him a thin lipped smile, forced and more of a grimace.

He checked the watch on his wrist and gave Alastor a sad smile in return. 

“I have to go now. But-” He disappeared in a corner of the room too shadowy for Alastor to see. “You’ve more than earned this tonight.”

There was a click, and the soft sound of jazz filled the room. The accompanying crackle of static betraying it’s source, even though Alastor couldn’t see the thing. Alastor closed his eyes in bliss. After so long in the quiet, music was like a balm on a burn.

He opened his eyes to see the man looking at him with such undisguised fondness, and Alastor cursed himself for showing so much vulnerability.

He couldn’t help it.

“I’ll be back tomorrow, dear heart.”

The man said.

“Enjoy your music.”


	4. The Third Week - Mine, All Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Consiquences of actions come to light and Angel and Alastor both make some life altering decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a fucking doozy this one was. It was almost longer but some scenes were put off to next chapter, hehe. Big shout out to my dear, dear friends who pump inspiration and motivation into me when the writer's block hits. You know who you are.
> 
> Comments are my lifeblood btw. I would really like to hear what you guys think of the story, especially because things are only going to get ore dramatic from here...

And so the new routine began.

Angel did not hold regular hours, and Alastor’s sleep rhythm unfortunately seemingly destroyed for the time being, so to Angel’s private delight, Alastor’s whole day was centered around his whims. 

Angel spent every spare moment with Alastor, any time he would use to do anything else, he would take down to the basement to bask in Alastor’s presence. He barely saw any of the city outside of mafia business, and usually that would drive him crazy, but in this case he literally couldn’t be less interested.

He had everything he needed back home.

He fed and watered Alastor diligently, endlessly patient and gentle, delighting in the lingering warmth and brushing touches it allowed him. He hand fed Alastor his cooking, soups and pastas, sometimes carefully cooked meats, rare and bloody as he knew Alastor preferred. He kept every piece of cutlery that Alastor’s lips had touched and hugged them close to his chest, pressing chaste kisses to the metal even long after they had been washed.

Those tiny, intimate details sent shivers down Angel’s spine, travelling through his body and remaining in his fingertips all day.

He wished it was enough.

It was more than he could ever hope for. More than he could ever dream, and yet the cravings for more were constant and insatiable. Not sex. Even with the lengths he was willing to go to hold Alastor close to him, he would never force himself upon him in that way. Some lines were simply not to be crossed. 

Only with enthusiastic consent would he so much as look at Alastor that way, and should that never happen? So be it.

No, the desires he felt were far more… domestic. He wanted the illusion of Alastor caring for him in return; and while the talking sessions were lovely, they weren’t everything he wanted. 

That dissatisfaction in his chest ate at him painfully, he only had five days left with his beloved. He had to make every single hour count. He couldn’t  _ afford _ to have regrets. The main problem is other than a vague feeling, he didn’t know what he wanted.

Right that moment, Angel was preparing to meet with some of the distributors, picking out a shirt and binding his chest down. His fingers brushed a white silken shirt with darling red detailing on the sleeves. He recognised it as one of Alastors, lovingly folded and nestled away among his own. He hesitated and pulled it out of the drawer, examining it. It was a bit big for him, but with some strategic tucking he could definitely make it work.

...Did he dare?

He slowly unbuttoned it and let the silk pool around his frame as he slipped it onto his back. He ran his fingers over the embroidery on the cuff and pulled the fabric around him like it was hugging him.

This was…

The hole in his chest was still there, but something about this, wearing Alastor’s shirt, filled it just a little.

He continued getting ready, now with a soft smile on his face.

~~~

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

“Ugh… Yeah, I’m alright.”

The woman he had bumped into was still apologising profusely, laden down with shopping bags she had only just managed to save. Angel peeled himself off the floor, picking up the briefcase he’d been carrying. He supposed he was lucky it hadn’t sprung open and spilled thousands of dollars all over the street. 

He was still a hot mess though, his jacket was dusty and his palms a little scraped, but his trousers were in a worse state. They had split along the seam til about halfway up his shin. He didn’t have time to mend it, not that he could with a tear that big, nor did he have time to turn around and change. He felt his temple twitch a little and he resisted the urge to growl at the woman. All he could do was keep moving and hope he could patch what he could with safety pins. He could bin them when he got home.

“My stars… your trousers, I’m so-”

“It’s- It’s okay. Just… I’m in a rush”

He got to his feet and pressed on.

He really wanted to be back home right now.

~~~

“Hey Jimmy, I thought you ripped up that shirt.”

“Yeah, I did, but my wife fixed it up. Tell ya, it’s good to have a woman round the house to patch up your clothes.”

“Especially when they’re as clumsy as you, eh?”

“Shut up, dumbass.”

Angel listened to the two workers argue as he waited to see the guy he was here to see. The fact that they made him wait was annoying. He had limited time here. Limited time with Alastor. And he would rather be with him than trapped in the waiting room of a front business listening to two bozos egg each other on.

He self consciously adjusted his pant leg before moving on to distractedly fiddle with the hem of his sleeve. He’d done his best with a pocketful of safety pins hurriedly purchased from the only stitch store open at this time, but it was a messy job. For someone who took pride in being beautiful, no matter what he was wearing, it made Angel a tad self conscious.

It was annoying, he liked these pants and would much rather have kept them, but he couldn’t fix a tear this size, he didn’t have the skill….

And then his fingers traced the embroidery on the edge of his sleeve, and he paused.

_ He _ might not have the skill, but he knew someone who did.

~~~

“You would like me to… What?”

Alastor didn’t sound incredulous as much as he did… legitimately surprised. Angel had rushed in immediately after getting home, only stopping to throw on a skirt and remove the trousers. Grabbing a needle and thread from the first aid kit on the way down.

“Sew it up. You can do that, right? I know that you can sew up tears…”

Emotions flew across his love’s face very fast, father than he could keep up with. He saw surprise, something grim looking, and determination, and a few microexpressions inbetween, before settling on that odd, forced almost-smile he gave Angel when he came with food.

Some small part of him quailed asking Alastor for  _ anything, _ because who was he to ask for anything from someone so perfect? He was but an ant asking for a favor from a god, divinity given flesh... But a bigger part of him was screaming that this was exactly what he had been looking for, exactly what was missing, and that he needed to procure it at any cost.

It was all for the greater good anyway, wasn’t it? All for love. For that connection that he would take home with him when he made the ultimate sacrifice and let the love of his life go forever.

“I do not-”

That sounded unsettlingly like it would lead to a refusal so Angel decided to up the stakes. In the time it had taken him to take his meeting and get home,he had become so attached to the idea he didn’t know if he could handle it being shot down at this point. 

“You know that radio being on all day isn’t great for the electricity bill.” Angel interjected quickly, “As much as I adore you, and you know I do darling, I don’t have infinite money. And if I needed to get a new pair of trousers made, well the money has to come from somewhere…”

It hurt, it  _ hurt _ to play with Alastor’s feelings like this. It was agony. Angel thought that ripping out his own heart might hurt less than the panicked and desperate look Alastor shot him just then. Angel felt the immediate instinct to pander and coddle…

But first, he would get what he needed.

“You- …I was going to say,” Alastor spoke carefully. “That I do not think I can mend anything with my hands restrained this way.”

Whether or not it was what he was going to say at the beginning, it was what Angel wanted to hear. His face broke into a bright smile and he nodded eagerly.

“Don’t worry, I have an idea.”

He went to a chest in the corner of the room and dug around in it before procuring two sets of handcuffs. The chain was not long enough for Alastor to reach or untie any of the other knots procuring him to the chair, but it _ was _ long enough that he should have enough movement to perform his task.

Angel gave Alastor a blinding smile as he clipped one end around the arm of the chair, and the other ever so carefully around Alastor’s wrist, before repeating the treatment on the other side. It was only when he was sure Alastor was once again secure that he untied the rope around his wrists. Angel hissed in sympathy at the sight of the ropeburn after three days of being tied down, and resolved to get the first aid kit after this.

“What do ya say? Enough room?”

“This… Should suffice, yes.”

“Oh darling… Thank you for this…”

Alastor once again leaned away as he leaned forward, trying to escape his touch. It was a painful reminder that this little inch of progress was nothing, and his love still very much unreturned.

Still. It was something.

Angel dug out the disinfecting alcohol as Alastor tested his newfound movement. Moving his arms and wrists, however minimally, must feel good after so long. Angel gently took one of his hands and tenderly disinfected the wounds as Alastor was testing the movement.

“This is gonna sting, I’m sorry…” He muttered as he pressed the alcohol to the raw and bloody skin. “I would take the pain away if I could…”

Alastor, to his credit, took it well and barely twitched. Angel allowed himself moments of lingering touch, feeling Alastor’s long, thin fingers. His smooth skin, otherwise pocked by the occasional scar. His wrists were a little thinner after his captivity. Not undernourished, merely loss of muscle after being unable to move them so long. Angel felt the overwhelming urge to kiss his hand, press his lips against the newly cleaned wounds and kiss them better. To show Alastor the sheer amount of  _ love _ he had. How it seeped and burst out of him, white hot and impossible to contain.

He didn’t.

But he wanted to.

He repeated the treatment on the other hand, sparing no amount of care. Ensuring that there was no danger of infection or Alastor hurting himself further on the metal edges of the cuffs.

When he was done, there was a brief moment where he simply sat there, in front of Alastor, holding his hands and revelling in it. He looked up at the handsome face of his most beloved and in that one moment the stars aligned and everything was perfect. Their eyes met and Angel saw something beyond mortal understanding in them. Alastor was a gift from Beyond, just for him. Placed in his path.

The moment broke when those beautiful eyes looked away, and Angel pressed the needle into his hand, careful not to prick him. He hoped Alastor would do it while he could see… Angel wanted to be there in those intimate, domestic moments. Exist in the same space as him. Simply… Live.

Alastor’s hands twitched, his fingers encircling the needle. Angel felt those wiry muscles move under his fingers and he tightened his hands around his wrists. A sudden wave of icy frustration and hurt welled up. His eyes sharpened and he stared cooly, knowingly, into Alastor’s.

He did not make an accusation. He did not need to.

Alastor knew as well as he the thought that had slipped into his head, and Angel would shut that down right here and now. Simply a stare was all it took. Digging his nails into the wounds on Alastor’s wrists and a pointed look at the gag still sitting on the table.

“You don’t mind if I watch, right darling?”

He asked pleasantly, digging his nails in deeper and feeling slick blood start to ooze out of it. Alastor tried to tug his wrists out, but Angel had all the control here. He didn’t like hurting Alastor, he really didn’t, but it was all for love. Besides, any attempts at violence towards Angel had to be quelled immediately. 

There couldn’t be love between them if Angel couldn’t trust him.

The blood drip, drip, dripped onto the floor.

“Of- Of course not.”

~~~

Those trousers were now officially Angel’s favorite. He would swear that after Alastor fixed them they fit better, although he could see no difference in the pant legs. Of course not, Alastor was far too skilled for that. He had been hypnotized by Alastor’s skill, nimble fingers working the needle in elegant flashes of silver. 

With the radio on in the background, Alastor had even seemed… At peace. Something had relaxed in his face at the motions and he had… Settled into some mindset Angel didn’t understand, but loved to see. He was focused on his work, but also swayed to the best of his bond’s allowance to the music, even singing or humming for a bit, if he thought he wasn’t being watched. It was almost serene. At ease and in his element, doing a task for Angel’s benefit. Just as Angel did tasks for Alastor’s.

It made them a team. A unit. 

He liked that.

It was with a sudden burst of clarity that he realized what he had been missing. A back and forth, a codependency. He wanted more than just to consume Alastor, to have him and hold him and listen to him. He wanted Alastor and he to be  _ connected. _ To feel Alastor’s presence in his day and night, even when he wasn’t with him. His love awaiting his return with work to show him.

It was a bittersweet realisation, because he knew he couldn’t have it long.

Still, he could have it now. He had to focus on that rather than the fact that his time with Alastor was so, so limited.

It had to be.

So he had taken any and all the clothes that needed mending, some he had even ripped up even more, so to be more time consuming, down to Alastor, eagerly asking him to fix them. Alastor’s eyes had darted to the radio and to the still present puddle of blood on the floor before sighing and asking for supplies. Angel had happily made the run to the craft store.

Alastor didn’t try anything this time, even when Angel got ever so close to examine the work.

He smiled to himself.

Alastor was finally coming to see that they could be beautiful together. When his beloved didn’t fight, they could be so much more…

It was a shame it had to end soon.

~~~

Angel walked downstairs in good humour with a carefully prepared meal. Alastor had done a fantastic job of repairing a shirt he had legitimately thought beyond salvation, and he had been out all day leaving Alastor alone. He deserved a treat, so the plate was piled with a rich seafood broth and spiced fish. He smiled to himself as he imagined how Alastor would react to the food. If there was one thing he knew for sure Alastor appreciated, it was his cooking. He rarely verbally said anything, but he seemed to… savor the food. Closing his eyes and chewing slowly.

So he was shattered from this fantasy when he grew closer and heard something off.

The radio was playing merrily, as it did when Angel left it on for his beloved, but there was also a strange, choked noise. Heavy breathing, but muffled. Like someone was making an effort to hide it.

The plate shattered on the ground with a crash in his frantic hurry to get into the room and to Alastor’s side. He immediately smelled blood on the air and even in the low light of the basement he could see Alastor hunched over himself as far as his restraints would allow. Alastor tried to turn away from him, snarling angrily, but it was more upset than aggressive.

Angel took one of his beloved’s hands The way Alastor was tied, with lashings of rope around his chest to keep him upright, the handcuff chains were too short to reach his face. He couldn’t wipe the shining tracks on his face away, blooms of deeper colour flushing his cheeks. His heart was pounding and he practically dove to Alastor’s side, putting what he hoped was a comforting hand on his arm.

“Darling? What happened? Please talk to me, let me help…”

“Get off o’ me!”

Alastor snarled in a tone he had never heard, in a  _ voice _ he had never heard before.

“You crazy sunnova- Lookit wha’chu’ve done!”

Angel did a double take. The intensity, the  _ fury _ , he’d never heard Alastor speak like that. Never even  _ imagined…. _ It was so corse, so feral compared to his usual chipper tone. It threw him for a loop, caught him off guard and Angel found himself floundering. Taking a few startled steps back.

“Wha- What are you talking

"Know how hard it is for coloured folk to get a respec’able job now’days? That job was everythin’ ta me. You took dat."

Alastor’s knuckles were pale, he was clenching his hands so hard, straining against his bonds like he wanted to lunge at Angel and rip him apart. His eyes were sharp and red and wet from tears. He was a mess and it broke Angel’s heart, but he was still reeling. Job? What was happening? Why was Alastor so upset?

Just then his attention was grabbed by the radio in the corner starting to speak.

_ “That was the latest hit by Paul Whiteman, I hope you all enjoyed it! I had the pleasure to hear it live with my father and I’ve been sittin’ on my love for it ever since.”  _

Said the voice on the radio. A new voice. Well, of course. The voice was usually Alastor. It was deeper, with a slight twinge of accent beyond the transatlantic standard. The whole affair seemed less natural than Alastor’s. Kind of slurred and forced.

Alastor’s gaze had shot to the radio and now was glaring at the radio with undisguised loathing.

Pieces were beginning to slot together in Angel’s head, but he needed more information. He approached Alastor again, taking his hand. Alastor yanked it out angrily, and just this once, Angel let him. Angel watched Alastor take a breath, and the obvious emotion drained. The vulnerability being swallowed up by a careful calmness. Even so, Angel could see it straining against the cracks. Alastor was trembling with barely contained rage and his eyes still wet and shining with tears unshed. Even with his mouth stretched into a painfully wide smile, he was a personification of misery.

“They replaced me.” 

He whispered, his voice back to the transatlantic accent Angel knew. 

“A neighbor got worried. They went to my house… There was blood, just a little. They-” He chuckled a little, mirthlessly. “They assumed the killer got me.”

Angel felt his stomach drop through the floor. He’d missed a spot? He’d been so careful… Except…

The rug. 

His blood froze over in his veins as his eyes widened. He’d dropped one of the pieces of meat on the rug. It was black so the blood hadn’t shown, and he’d forgotten to include it in his cleanup. But now? After five days, it would have started to stink, attract flies. If the sheriff’s dogs had found it…

Shit.

He curled his hand, suddenly unsure of what to say. Eyes wide with the realisation of the  _ magnitude _ of his mistake.

“My- My love, Alastor, I am so  _ sorry…” _

Alastor scoffed and looked away. Angel was too busy spiralling into thoughts of how to atone to be angry about it. He deserved it…. He’d messed up so bad… Alastor loved his job more than anything. He was always so happy on air. He practiced his scripts at home and always looked so at peace when he did. 

“I- I’ll fix it. I’ll fix this. I promise- Somehow… I’ll make it up to you.”

He just didn’t know  _ how. _

_ “And with that I’m gonna have to leave you for the night ladies and gents.”  _ The voice in the radio piped up again.  _ “But I’ll see you all again tomorrow morning, 9am. This is your brand new radio host, Samuel Jacobs, signing off.” _

Alastor was glowering at the radio again, like the very sound of that man’s voice was offensive. It was clear that Alastor didn’t like his replacement any more than he disliked the fact that he  _ had been. _

Angel bit his lip, a plan forming.

He wanted so badly to clear away the anger and the pain and the sadness and the fury he’d seen before, that he was still seeing now. He wanted Alastor’s face to brighten, for his smile to be real, or at least easy, instead of this shield he was throwing up.

Everything that had upset Alastor up till this point had been in the name of love. Justifiable. But now, seeing the pain was like having his very heart ripped out of his chest and torn apart while still beating.

This was his mistake, and he had to make it up.

“I’ll fix it.” He repeated with conviction. “I promise.”

~~~

Angel was very aware that he only had three days left to do this, and he couldn’t really bear to see that look on Alastor’s face again, so he resolved to enact his plan swiftly.

When he had stormed into the local front and asked for any and everything they had on Samuel Jacobs, he must have had a very frightening look on his face, because the informant had scrambled to answer in a hushed voice.

Nothing special, a rather useless man, but one with old money and protections. His family had been in slave trading right up till the ban and was living off the treasury and connections. He liked his hooch and could be found in many of the high end speakeasies, if one knew where to look.

It wasn’t his first time doing a rush-job. Some planted booze, a well placed bullet… The fact that there were so many alligators around only served to help the cause. So that night, Angel donned his battle armor. A beautiful blue dress that shimmered in the moonlight and he had on trusted word was alluring as a siren song. 

He didn’t wear it often, he preferred red, but red was for Alastor.

This was just means to an end.

He slipped into the speakeasy, quiet and unassuming as a whisper. Lips red and teeth itching for the kill. Jacobs was already halfway into a bottle by the time Angel found him, and by the look of him, it wasn’t his first. Tall with fair hair and green eyes, traditionally handsome Angel supposed, if one could ignore the fact he was utterly thrashed and drooling over the singer on stage. Angel subtly caught his eye and gave the man a quick smile, before beckoning and breezing away. Dainty and elegant. He barely bothered to watch if the man was following.

What a miserable creature. He could see why Alastor was upset. How could anyone imagine that you could replace living-perfection Alastor Landry with this man?

He could hear him trying to call Angel back to him, but he just smiled coyly and kept walking till he was out the door. Angel played with him a little, led him to the waterfront as a ghostlike visage under the moon. The air was hot and sticky, and Angel’s eagerness to fish it grew with the humidity. The man’s gait was uneven and slow, but the poor sod caught up eventually.

From there it was a simple matter to slide a thin blade between his ribs.

The waterfront was dark and empty as Angel did his work, painstakingly harvesting what he needed for Alastor’s apology. It wouldn’t do to give him anything other than the best, after all. Once he had what he needed, he pushed the body into the river and let the animals have him. He’d been tossing his scraps into the water as he worked and he’d worked up quite a crowd of fish and gators at this point.

Less than five hours after he committed to his plan, he strode home with what he needed. The rest of Samuel Jacobs little more than fish food.

~~~

Alastor hadn’t asked for the radio to be turned on that day. He seemed despondent, less alive than usual. It made Angel’s heart ache. He hadn’t taken dinner last night, nor breakfast that morning. When he walked into the basement with Alastor’s surprise, Alastor was so still he almost seemed not to be breathing.

“My love?” 

Angel approached more timidly than usual, wanting Alastor to see him coming. 

He didn’t seem to be seeing much at the moment.

“I brought you dinner…”

Alastor’s eyes flitted to the plate, then to Angel, but then they returned to the floor and the dark and Alastor said nothing. Angel frowned and got closer. His beloved didn’t even twitch. His whole body slouched over and only propped up with his restraints.

“Alastor?” The scent of the food didn’t seem to even reach Alastor as Angel carefully set the plate down and picked up the cutlery. “It’s special for you… Just the way you like it.”

He cut off a piece of the roast he’d brought down, soaked in gravy. Holding it up to Alastor’s lips.

“I know… I know that it doesn’t make up for what I did. I know I probably never will, not truly. But please… My love, don’t starve yourself. I hunted this down specially for you. He wasn’t deserving of your spot, or his life, for that matter.”

Alastor’s eyes rose again. Apparently that had struck a chord with him. Struck with hope, Angel kept talking. 

“I wanted to give you a piece of myself, at first. But then who would take care of you? So I settled for what was making you upset. I know it doesn’t fix anything but…”

Alastor looked at Angel. They were searching. Angel didn;t know what for. Angel simply tried to project his earnestness and gave Alastor a pleading look.

“Please, my love?”

Alastor’s eyes slipped shut and he sighed, before hesitantly opening his mouth.

“Thank you Alastor.”

Alastor said nothing.

~~~

The next day Alastor seemed in slightly better spirits, but he was still subdued. Quiet. Angel didn’t have to work until much, much later, so he brought some sewing materials down and kept Alastor company while he worked. Angel could watch Alastor for hours, admirong how his hair caught the light or the way his hands worked. He had a natural grace, an elegance to him, that was hypnotic. Alastor’s lips were pursed and tight as he talked to himself, because Alastor was seemingly incapable of being quiet even now, but he avoided Angel’s eye.

Something in Alastor seemed to have splintered and broken away, upon finding out his job was gone.

He was letting Alastor go in two days.

He didn't want to.

Yes because he was never  _ going to  _ want to, he wanted to keep Alastor forever, but also because…

Angel was concerned.

He knew he would be releasing Alastor into a hostile environment. One under intense police scrutiny. His house had been seized, he had no job… Upon assuming Alastor was dead, his life had been dismantled by the state and left nothing for him to return to. Could Angel in good conscience let him go when all that awaited him was struggle?

Angel acknowledged this was his fault and it  _ killed him _ , but no amount of self flagellation was going to undo what was done.

What he needed now was solutions.

He watched Alastor as he focused on his sewing. Such a beautiful creature, perfection personified. If Angel let him back into the cruel world, especially in this state, it would crush him. Destroy him and devour his remains like Alastor had so many bodies.

He bit his lip.

He had promised to release Alastor when he left. But with the changes that had happened, wasn’t that more abandonment than a release? It was Angel’s purpose to be there for Alastor, he knew it down to his bones. And he was in the impossible situation where in breaking one promise, he would fail in that goal.

Angel’s one priority was keeping Alastor safe, happy, and healthy. He put that above anything, even his own life. When all this had begun, and taking Alastor in had been a selfish lapse, an indulgence, releasing Alastor was the only way to ensure that. 

But things had changed.

He turned the idea about in his mind, before coming to the conclusion that there really was only one thing to do.

He got to his feet.

“I’ll be back in just a moment my dearest. I need to make some calls.”

~~~

It took some arguing. He never thought he’d see the day Pops would argue with him to  _ come home _ rather than stay out. Molly had cried. It was only assuring her that he was safe here, that he had work and a place to live, that she had stopped begging him to change his mind. Still she shakily asked him what was possessing him to leave them. Leave  _ her. _

When she assured him that everyone else was out of the room, he told in a low voice that he was staying for some _ one, _ not something, and her whole demeanor changed.

_ “Wait so- The man you told me about…” _

“Is downstairs right now.”

Angel smiled at her excited squeal. 

_ “Angie! Why didn’t you say anything? How long has this been goin’ on? You didn’t tell me!” _

He apologised with a fond smile. Telling her about Alastor in more detail. All the things he had discovered from Alastor’s talking sessions, all systematically memorized. 

“He’s so smart Molls, and so passionate… It hurts so bad to see him struggle.”

_ “Struggle?” _

“Yeah… It’s why I wanna stay. He lost his job. He’s heartbroken.”

_ “Oh, the poor dear…” _

Angel excluded how he and Alastor met, or why Alastor was ‘staying’ with him. He knew Molly would support him no matter what, but you never know who’s wiretapping. Besides. He would prefer to keep some things just between him and his beloved.

~~~

“Alastor? Are you awake, my love?”

Angel descended the stairs with a bounce in his step. Speaking with his family and the various people he needed to talk to had taken longer than expected and he’d had to run out to the meeting planned for that night immediately afterwards. It had been a good many hours since he’d left Alastor but he’d been able to think of nothing but telling him the happy news.

He knew Alastor wouldn’t be happy, at first. But he would come around.

There were a few seconds of heavy silence and Angel shifted from foot to foot, waiting for a response. He was vibrating with sheer excitement, and yet… he clenched his hands, agitated.

“...I’m awake.”

Angel’s face lit up and he surged forward, taking Alastor’s hand, perhaps too roughly in his eagerness. He took a breath and gently rubbed circles in Alastor’s hand with his thumb.

“Good! ...Good. I um…. Wanted to tell you something?”

Alastor looked at him dispassionately, eyes empty. Angel’s chest ached and his excitement faltered. It was a sobering reminder to why he was doing this. That this was not their happily ever after. Not yet anyway.

“Sorry.” Angel murmured. “Got excited.”

Alastor said nothing. Angel looked up at him with something of a more subdued smile. He reminded himself to be brave. Communication saved relationships. Healed them.

“I know,” Angel said slowly. “That this is all my fault. I made a stupid mistake. I can’t fix it. But I  _ can _ adapt. And do what’s best for both of us in the new situation.”

His beloved’s blank mask was beginning to show glimmers of confusion. That was progress, any emotion was good, especially if it wasn’t hopelessness or utter despair, so Angel continued.

“I told you that I would let you go when I left New Orleans, that you could go back to your old life. But things have changed. Your old life is… gone. You need to make a new one, and I want to help you do that.”

Alastor’s hands were curling in on themselves, clenching his fists as best he could and squeezing Angel’s hand almost painfully, but he was on a roll and couldn’t stop if he wanted to. Like Alastor was pulling his most heartfelt words right out of him.

“The first time I watched a full broadcast you did, you said ‘home is where the heart is’. If home is where the heart is, then I’m home as long as I’m with you.”

Alastor was fidgeting. With each word Angel leaned closer, feeling Alastor’s warmth, his breath, on his skin. With each passing second he became more and more convinced that this was the right thing to do. The only option really.

He could make Alastor see that.

“What are you saying?”

“That I’m not going back, I’ve got myself permanent work here and put the house under my name. I’m going to stay here. With you. Protecting you, serving you… For the rest of both our lives.”

~~~

Alastor needed time to process. He seemed a bit shell shocked when Angel told him. Stiff and lost in his thoughts. He couldn’t blame his beloved, it was a big change. Still, Angel remained resolute it was for the best. 

The next time he came down to spend some time with Alastor, he was watched with eagle sharp eyes as he descended and hope fluttered in his chest. That was already a turn for the better, if Alastor was aware and less… defeated.

Alastor spoke, although more to himself than to Angel, for about two hours before anything happened. In that time Angel caught a glance of a range of facial expressions. Mostly featured was a grim sort of determination, as well as a weight to Alastor’s movement and face that was rather unbecoming. Not because it was ugly, Alastor could never be such a thing, but simply because seeing Alastor look so ancient and tortured made Angel’s heart wail.

He was suspicious of the compliance, of course. Especially after the lifelessness of the last few days. He’d expected a bigger and more negative reaction to his announcement that he was staying too. He knew Alastor was probably sitting on some less than nice thoughts, just waiting for an outburst.

Still, he was also cautiously optimistic. Perhaps Alastor was coming around… He’d been civil, if downright friendly so far…

“You know, my fellow, it occurs to me that I don’t know your name.”

Angel was snapped from his thoughts at the sound of Alastor’s voice. He paused a moment, blinking, and then he realised he was right. Angel had never formally introduced himself. Had Alastor truly gone this whole time not knowing Angel’s  _ name? _

Angel let out a surprised little giggle. How funny that was. How silly. To his amazement Alastor chuckled too. Angel felt his cheeks flush. It sounded different in person. It was a very nice sound. 

“It’s rather ridiculous, don’t you think?”

Angel nodded, still giggling.

“Yeah… That was careless of me, wasn't it? Well… Maybe this can be a new beginning? I can tell you now.”

Alastor looked at him, and that look of determination crossed his face again, just for a second. One so fast it may have never been there at all.

“Yes... New beginnings.”

“Alright then. Well, Alastor, it’s nice to meet you. My name’s Angel.”

~~~

“Angel?”

“Yes my love?”

Angel felt a pleasant tingle go down his spine at the sound of Alastor using his name. It sounded beautiful in Alastor’s mouth, as many words did, but this one was special because it was Angel’s  _ name _ in  _ Alastor’s mouth _ . 

Worth any and all gold in the world, and then some. Angel could listen to it all day.

“Can I please sleep somewhere else tonight? My body… hurts.”

Through the day the two of them had been talking about more personal things. Their new beginning off to a good start. Angel knew that it was probably a tactic to soften him to something, but it was so _ good _ to be connecting to Alastor in a real and meaningful way that he let it slide.

This must be what Alastor was aiming for.

In fairness to him, Angel could see his point. Aside from his arms, Alastor had been stuck in the same position for the better part of a week and was definitely sore. He could see it in how Alastor was holding himself, even though Angel had invested in a chair that would support his neck, Alastor was hunched in on himself and winced at too big a movement.

Angel thought about it.

He actually wasn’t opposed to it, Alastor more than deserved to be comfortable and Angel still felt so, so bad for his mistake. He wanted to dote and lavish Alastor with love and attention to make up for it. The main issue was that this house didn’t have another bed. He was going to buy one very soon now he knew he was staying, but this place had been kitted out for one person.

The couch was too small for either of them, and Angel didn’t plan on leaving Alastor unsupervised anyway.

He grimaced and looked over Alastor again. He looked bruised, sore,and like he wasn’t thinking of anything beyond maybe actually sleeping lying down today.

“...Okay.”He eventually said. “...But you and I will have to share a bed.”

Alastor had somewhat brightened but stiffened at the final statement. He went ramrod straight and his eyes went wide.

Angel noticed this and floundered to reassure him.

“I won’t do anything, I won’t even touch you.” He promised, leaning forward and putting a palm on Alastor’s cheek. “We’ll both be totally clothed and I’ll stick to my side. It’s just so I can keep an eye on you while giving you what you need.”

He could see the wheels turning in Alastor’s head. Weighing his options. Angel waited patiently. He didn't want to rush him. He watched as Alastor looked him up and down, and then winced as he fidgeted a little. His back let out a painful sounding series of pops and his beloved juddered. He sighed and didn’t meet Angel’s eye.

“Very well.”

~~~

Angel found himself bouncing happily on his toes as he cleaned the sheets and prepared fresh clothes for Alastor.

While his request hadn’t been expected, Angel was looking forward to taking care of Alastor tonight. To treat him like a proper lover aught. While he was careful to show Alastor the utmost possible love and adoration, their circumstance had been a barrier near unconquerable.

Tonight might be the end of that.

Soon enough, the bed was ready and every door and window was locked up tight. The bathroom cleared of any potential weapon he could think of. A pair of handcuffs wound tightly around the headboard of the bedframe.

It was ready.

He went downstairs to fetch his beloved.

~~~

Just getting Alastor up the stairs was difficult enough. He could barely stand, so sore and more than a little emancipated. Angel winced. It wasn’t unhealthy levels, but Alastor had lost a lot of muscle mass. He desperately needed to invest in somewhere his dearest could exercise. He tied Alastor’s hands in front of him, just a precaution, before smiling brightly and proclaiming them ready to go.

He gently put one of his arms around Alastor’s shoulders and helped him up the stairs, one by one. Alastor’s movements became somewhat more fluid as they moved, but he was still shaky, so Angel supported him all the way.

He was happy to.

Their first stop was the bathroom. Angel untied Alastor’s hands for this part, laying some fresh and soft clothes out for him before waiting outside. He listened carefully to Alastor’s movements, fully ready to burst in if he heard anything suspicious, but no. The shower stopped and started, footsteps made their way to the towels and then where the clothes were laid out.

Angel smiled to himself.

After a rocky week, it seemed Alastor was finally coming around a little. It might be reluctant now, but soon he wouldn’t wish for anything different. Angel would make sure of it.

When Alastor opened the door Angel was ready to meet him with a complement and more rope. He wasn’t stupid, but he did tie them gently and accomidatingly, stroking Alastor’s hand lovingly.

“Ready for bed, love?”

~~~

Angel constructed a wall of pillows between them to respect Alastor’s wish for space. His love was tucked up against the wall so Angel could be between him and the door, handcuffs holding him in place, but in a significantly more comfortable position than he could manage in the chair.

Alastor’s breathing was calm and steady, but Angel just wanted to watch him. He was restless. Alastor was so distractingly beautiful, he drew the eye like a light source, or perhaps a gentle shadow in a room of harsh light. The sounds of the swamp came from outside and the moment was so perfect that time seemed to be sticky as syrup. It made Angel’s heart pound. The moment was almost too good, too perfect, it made Angel’s blood feel syrupy and thick.

He fidgeted, desperate to be able to relax and take in this moment properly.

He only froze when he saw one of Alastor’s eyes open in the low light, jumping at the wide whites and deep, dark pits staring at him from the dark.

“Sorry, did I wake you my love?” He murmured. “Go back to sleep.”

“It is rather hard when one is sharing a bed with one bouncier than a rabbit.” 

The response was biting, but toothless, and they both knew it. Alastor could do nothing here. There were a few moments of stillness before a put-upon sigh.

“My mother used to sing me to sleep if I was restless. In the interest in  _ enjoying  _ the proper sleep I’m being afforded today, might that help you?”

Angel’s heart felt like it was going to explode Alastor… offering to sing to him to help him sleep? Iff toight hadn’t already been perfect, he would have thought himself dreaming. He almost pinched himself to check, before he realised if this  _ was _ a dream, he didn’t want to wake up.

“P- Please do.”

The whites of Alastor’s eyes vanished as he presumably shut his eyes. Took a breath, and in a soft and mellow voice, started to sing. It was in french, low and sweet and it wrapped Angel up like a soft spider’s web. Warm and enclosing in the best way. Angel felt like he could feel himself floating on Alastor’s voice. A spell, an enchantment.

Angel closed his eyes to listen and bask in the feeling of revelation.

The next thing he knew, he was asleep.

~~~

When Angel awoke the next morning, Alastor was awake already, but he looked well. Angel hadn’t realised just how tired Alastor had looked until this morning, when the bags under his eyes were less pronounced and his cheeks looked haler. Angel caught himself staring lovingly at Alastor’s face and indulged in a few more precious seconds before pushing himself up. Getting off the bed, he reached over to stroke Alastor’s hai out of his face.

“Good morning my love…” Angel said, uncuffing Alastor’s hands so he could sit up. “I hope you slept well.”

Alastor compliantly followed along and Angel was suddenly overwhelmed with fondness. He relocked the cuffs in front of Alastor and cupped his face, leaning his own closer. He didn’t want to kiss him (well he did, but not without consent. Never ever…), even though Alastor leaned away, he simply pressed their foreheads together and closed his eyes. Feeling Alastor closer to him than he had ever been. Even when he had been carrying Alastor home that first time, it had never felt so… Intimate. 

He took a shaky, gasping breath when he heard the clinking of chain, and felt Alastor’s fingers brush his own cheek. Cupping Angel’s face in a mirror of his own position. He opened his eyes and met Alastor’s. There was a moment of eye contact that made Angel’s whole body  _ burn _ like he was under the scrutiny of god and found him  _ worthy…. _

“Alastor…” He breathed. “I-”

He was given no more time to speak, however, as Alastor’s eyes suddenly froze to ice shards and his head was suddenly shoved sideways and slammed into the wall.

A burst of pain and dizziness swam over Angel and he fell to the floor, dazed and confused. He looked around blearily and the room was fuzzy. An impact came from nowhere and knocked his head enough to disorient him further.

He could hear drawers opening and closing, like someone was searching the room, and then hands searching his pockets. 

Alastor made a triumphant noise as he fished the keys out of Angel’s pocket.

Even with his limited understanding of what was going on, pain that had nothing to do with the head injury lanced through his chest.

Had all that been a trick? A lie?

Tears welled up in his eyes and stung them. How- How could he? He should have expected this but Alastor had seemed so tender… So genuine… This was supposed to be where things got  _ better. _

The handcuffs fell in a heap next to him and footsteps pounded as Alastor left the room, slamming the door behind him.

It was a few agonising seconds before Angel was able to pull himself upright. He was still dizzy, but every second counted. Every moment he dallied was a step further Alastor made away from him.

He would not let this happen. Alastor was  _ his. _ Angel was willing to bend on a lot of things for his love, but not on this. Angel was happily sacrificing everything for Alastor and staying here. He couldn’t survive without him, or vice versa.

Rage, hurt, and love screamed together in his chest like battling winds as he grabbed rope, chloroform, and his gun.

Alastor was  _ not _ leaving him. 

And if Angel had to blow out his kneecaps to make sure he stayed?

Well that’s exactly what he would do.


	5. Going Home - Oversized Baggage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alastor races for freedom, but Angel is just as determind not to lose him. 
> 
> One way or another, someone isn't going home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please please PLEASE mind the tags people,,,,
> 
> Holy shit this got long, from here we have a bit of a format change, bur more on that in the next chapter

Alastor’s feet pounded against the marshy ground with the practiced grace of a native who could spot a soft patch from a mile off. Despite being barefoot and weak, he was moving quickly. He was weak and wobbling like a newborn fawn, but he knew these swamps like the back of his hand. In a sense he was grateful when he stopped fiddling with the key and the door swung open that he was greeted with marshland and not the city streets. He lacked the dexterity to avoid leaving footprints right now, but he had no doubt that Angel would catch up to him if it was simply the two of them running down a road.

Angel was following him. He could hear him yelling and stumbling through the mud. Alastor had a sizable lead but he was hyper aware that Angel was still within hearing distance.

He wouldn’t underestimate him again.

Past the gnarled willow he’d buried his first kill under and to the left of the mangroves the swamp hens liked. Which means he was about twenty minutes walk away from the dirt road that led to the northern highway.

No, too far. He was too weak. He wouldn’t make it.

Childhood days of mosquito bites and exploring unfurled like a map in his mind. Was there a faster way? Yes, Miss Obello’s cabin road. While the woman herself was long dead, the path she'd made into town was still there. 

Twelve minutes. 

Well- he thought as his legs wobbled dangerously- perhaps closer to fifteen.

He had til then to lose his pursuer. 

~~~

The trees blocked out the morning light and cast the bog into shadow. Things moved and hissed in the roots. Alastor knew that time lost meaning in the bayou, and that you couldn’t always trust your own perceptions. He relied on this as he melted in and out of the shadows. 

He’d taken a few precious minutes to smear the white shirt and pants he’d slept in with mud. He truly did despite making a mess of himself but the white stood out like a retreating rabbit’s tail and now, his silhouette broken, he was confident that he was hard to see among the dappled shadows on the trunks of the trees. Still, with every passing moment he grew more and more eager to get to safety. He was growing tired, his steps less coordinated. His body was thin and weak after being bound so long and he knew he didn’t have much in the way of energy left in him.

But the path and the abandoned cabin both were close by, and once he was on the trail he would be near scott free. 

He kept his eyes peeled for the flash of red that was Miss Obello’s rose patch, grown out of control after her death and left to overgrow wildly. But, so caught up in that was he that he missed the fox trap until he was on top of it.

It was tucked just under a bush and he feels the pressure plate shift under his bare foot. His eyes widened as he heard it’s rusty maw creak and desperately threw himself to the side. The teeth of the trap seemed to brush his shin as the rusty old thing snapped shut. Alastor hissed as he pushed himself up slowly, examining his leg. 

The teeth of the trap had caught his pant leg, but thankfully not him. The silk was entangled in the trap like a messy spider’s web. It was rusty, old, forgotten here to rot and hurt whatever unfortunate creature stumbled into it. He tried to pry the trap open and free his pant leg, but the mechanisms were rusted and refused to give way. His arms shook under the strain, but whether he was too weak or the mechanism too strong, he couldn’t make it budge.

Alastor sighed, suddenly feeling very heavy and tired. 

That could have been it.

A seconds slower and he would have been trapped here with a mangled leg in a rusty trap, waiting for Angel to find him, or not find him and die of the elements, he supposed. Not that he was in a fantastic situation right now. Silk is strong enough to destroy sewing machines unless you sew with the strands. Given the mess he was looking at, it would take a good long while to rip himself free.

Still, he was alive and able.

It was better than nothing.

~~~

Alastor had gotten himself free for the most part when he heard it.

The distinct sounds of somebody trying to be quiet.

Alastor had considered himself a hunter before all this, still did, but he was the prey right now. Still, he knew well the soundscape of somebody trying to sneak through the marsh undetected. The soft slurping of mud clinging to someone trying to keep their footfalls light, the soft whisper of grass as someone breezed through it.

He froze and strained his ears.

These sounds were few and far between. He waited for the next sign.

There it was, a tree root creaking as someone stood on it to avoid splashing through the river.

Shit, it was so much closer than he thought.

He stayed totally still, barely allowing himself to breathe until those near-silent tells faded and he no longer heard them. That had been far,  _ far _ too close a shave.

He looked down at his progress on the pants and, not for the first time, considered shedding them entirely. But he wasn’t wearing anything underneath, and he wasn’t exactly endeared to running through the marsh nor through town with nothing on his lower half. It’s not that he wasn’t desperate, but…

He cut a very different silhouette to what the townspeople were used to from him, and being streaked with mud made his skin look even darker than usual. Alastor knew plenty of people who were perfectly reasonable about his heritage, and he knew it was nothing to be ashamed of, but that didn’t change the fact that there would always be people with itchy trigger fingers upon seeing someone with brown skin acting any way other than immaculately. Running through town half naked while being chased by a white man would definitely fit that category.

No, he would cut it free and give himself the best chance he could.

He did, however, speed up.

A few harsh tugs and the last of the silk  _ finally  _ gave way. He was free and tumbled back into the bush with his momentum. It was a cacophony of cracking and rustling and Alastor knew he was on borrowed time.

He scrambled out of the bush carefully as he could and scrabbled towards where the path was tucked between the trees. He caught a glimpse of blood red roses and bolted towards it.

The running was clearer here and, in a burst of impulsiveness, he decided to opt for speed, knowing it was the final sprint. He wasn’t fast, but he was moving faster than before, faster even than his adrenaline fuelled dash from his prison this morning. 

His choice however, was noisy, and turned out to be a terrible error. 

He dove behind a tree when he heard shoes approaching at a loping gait. Running, but not fast enough not to observe the surroundings. His heart was pounding, either from stress or fatigue, and his breath came in sharp pants. They felt so loud, he was surprised Angel couldn't hear them.

...Maybe he could.

The footsteps were coming, not from the path behind him, but from somewhere to his left. The trees moved in the wind and the shadows twitched.

A flash of silver caught his eye as he looked around. Sticking out of the tree near his hand was a small hunting knife, old and weather-beaten, but still silver and presumably sharp. The blade was lodged into the bark next to some sort of engraving. Someone’s idea of romance, he assumed. He quickly snatched up the knife, pressing it against his heaving chest as the steps grew closer and closer. He pressed himself against the bark, sinking low and trying to blend in with the tree roots.

The footsteps mulled around a little, seemingly searching. Coming up to the nearby trees, they strolled up and down the path.

Angel definitely knew he was there.

“Oh Alastor~ Is that you, my love?” 

Alastor held his breath as the footsteps grew closer and closer. He could hear a strange clacking that he realised after some thought was the cocking of a gun. 

“Now  _ really  _ isn’t the time for hide and seek…”

Alastor’s knuckles went pale around the knife as his heart made its home in his throat.

Push came to shove, he would go for Angel’s neck and hope for the best, but he really didn’t stand a chance against the revolver he’d caught a glimpse of once or twice while Angel came to see him after ‘work’.

Angel went on talking as he walked, his voice getting closer and further away at intervals, but never far enough that Alastor thought he could slip away.

“I don’t want to hurt you dearest heart, really I don’t… Please don’t force my hand. Come home with me, I don’t wanna get rough, this doesn’t have to end in tears…”

The footsteps came to a stop. They came to a stop very, very close. Alastor could hear Angel’s breaths, slightly harsh from the running of the morning, but far from tired. 

“What are you going back to anyway? There’s nothing out there I can’t give you. None of them love you like I do… I can give you anything… Just belong to me, I can be good for you, I promise!”

Angel’s voice sounded breathy, high. Like the very idea knocked the air out of him a little.

“There’s nothing waiting for you out there! Just pain and misery, bigotry and rage, I can keep you safe from all of that! You’re the most important thing in my world… Just… Please don’t leave me… If you leave me I’ll go to the police! I’ll tell them everything you’ve done… Where to find the bones!  _ Everything! You’re better off with me! Why can’t you see that? _ ”

Alastor held his breath as the final question was punctuated with a furious yell. Alastor felt like he could feel that yell in his very bones, his pounding heart shaking his ribcage. He debated the merits of crawling towards the cover of the bushes. The tree he was hiding behind was starting to feel very inadequate. His fingers felt frozen around the handle of the hunting knife despite the warm southern air.

He waited until Angel’s footsteps began to wander further away before he made his move. Slowly shifting, mindful of every movement, towards the cover of the underbrush. After a while he turned his head a little, trying to watch Angel as he moved back. As his position slowly shifted, the pale form of his firmor captor came into view. He was smeared with mud as much as Alastor, and prowling the area like an aggravated predator.

Alastor kept his eyes locked on Angel as he backed away, watching for signs he had been spotted. He kept low to the ground, trying to be innocuous. He made it all the way to the bracken and started meticulously pulling himself into them without making too much noise.

Everything was going fine until Angel kicked the stone.

Muttering about how he would find him, Angel kicked out at a pebble lying at the side of the path. The stone skidded, bounced off a tree, and skittered off the path. Angel’s eyes followed the movement of the pebble as it clattered to a stop mere feet from where Alastor was still trying to hide. Mostly obscured, but his hand still braced against the roots.

The clacking of a loaded gun made Alastor’s mouth go dry.

“Found you.”

Alastor knew it wasn’t ideal but he had literally no other choice.

He pushed off and sprinted between the trees as fast as his tired, weak body would allow. A few pistol shots made his ears ring and he swore he could  _ hear _ the bullets whizz past him, but no pain came and he didn't have time to turn around so he just kept running. Angel was hot on his heels, and gaining ground. Alastor felt hot, stinging tears well up in his eyes despite himself.

He would  _ not _ die here! Whether it was imprisoned by a madman or a bullet to the forehead he would  _ not die here. _

An extra push of speed and he weaved through the trees, pushing his emancipated body further than it could really go-

“Shit! Shit, damn it, fuck fuck fuck...”

Alastor heard the burst of expletives, followed by fading muffled cursing in italian and english alike. Curiosity overtook him and he risked a glance over his shoulder. He saw Angel quite a ways off, leg caught in a winding net of tree roots and clutching his knee.

“Get back here, Alastor!” Angel screamed as Alastor kept moving. “Even if you get away today! I’ll come for you! The police, my family, I’ll tell them all what you did! You’ll only have me! I’m all you need!”

Alastor almost tripped as he stumbled to a stop. Angel’s voice was beginning to fade into the distance and his lungs were burning. After his ordeal he was not physically fit enough to do what he’d done today and it was taking its toll. He afforded himself a mere few seconds to catch his breath.

The words Angel said churned in his head as his body heaved and he could feel the seed of doubt begin to take root in his mind.

The problem was, Angel had a point. Alastor was painfully aware that the colour of his skin put him at a severe disadvantage in society, as unfair as that was. The chief of police already hated his guts, and after finding blood in his home and Alastor turning up distinctly not dead, all it would take was Angel’s word and he’d have a whole different kind of chase on his hands.

The hunting knife was still in his hand, he seemed incapable of letting go of it.

He slowly tested its sharpness.

It wasn’t  _ his _ knife, but it would do. It was long enough, sharp enough to do the job.

Alastor knew he had to act fast. Angel was hurt, vulnerable, too hurt to give chase anyway. It might be the only chance he had.

He glanced down the path and knew it would be so easy to just keep running.

But he wanted more than to just escape, he wanted his  _ life back _ . And to get that, Angel needed to be silenced.

Alastor turned around.

~~~

Angel was still there among the roots when Alastor came back, slowly moving closer with a care only afforded to his most important victims. He couldn’t let Angel see him coming.

The pale man was still curled over his leg, possibly trying to wrap it. It was hard to see, he was facing away from Alastor.

That was a good thing, he didn’t want Angel to see him coming.

He had the knife ready and in hand. He would make it quick. Whatever happened from there, he could face it knowing that Angel would no longer be dogging his steps.

He got as close as he dared, watching Angel for any sign he’d noticed his presence, before he struck. Quick and deadly he lashed out with the knife on the side of the injured leg so Angel wouldn’t be able to twist away. 

Except Angel  _ did _ twist away, pushing off his knee in a way he shouldn’t be able to on an injury. Pouncing on Alastor and pinning him with Angel’s bodyweight, and Alastor realised he had been tricked.

A handful of sharp nails dug into Alastor’s wrist, twisting it until the knife fell from his hands. Alastor struggled and scrabbled at any purchase he could make. On Angel, on the ground, on the roots, anything. But his body was failing. It had been through too much, had been running on empty all day, and even the fumes had left him. He had nothing. No strength with which to get away, even with adrenaline coursing through him.

Angel pinned him with one hand and roughly shoved the revolver under his chin. The metal was cold and bruising, Angel’s eyes as he bore down angrily even more so.

“There you are.”

~~~

There had been a few moments where he suspected that he was simply going to die. Angel certainly seemed angry enough, and the metal of the gun was an ever present and glaring threat. 

But no.

Alastor was trussed up and carried back to the house he’d run from like game from a hunt, limp and exhausted against Angel’s back, too tired even to cry. Angel carried Alastor like he weighed barely anything at all. It rather reminded him of the days he’d seen his father carry a dead deer home on his back. Those deer had always been destined for the dinner table, Alastor didn’t know what was next for him, he almost thought he would have liked the certainty.

Angel marched with purpose, not saying anything. Eyes, usually so besotted and soft, stormy and hard as ice. The one time Alastor had tried to speak, while Angel was tying him up, his captor had slapped him, shoved the gun harder against his face, and told him to shut his mouth.

“Shut up.” Angel had snapped. “I’m decidin’ wha’ to do wi’tcha.”

Alastor bit his tongue and didn’t mention the accent, nor anything else. He knew the kind of situations in which his own accent reared its head, and it only served as a reminder that he was on thin, thin ice.

The sun was high in the sky when Angel made it back to the cabin, and Alastor was roughly shoved into a closet, still tied up.

“Stay. Put.”

Angel hissed, before angrily slamming the door.

~~~

Alastor does as he’s bid.

There’s no doubt in his mind that if he tests Angel’s patience so soon after all that he won’t like the consequences at all. So he sits, and he waits.

The closet Alastor was in was dark, the only light being the faint outline of light beyond the door. He could hear Angel passing by a few times, a figure passing by that outline a few times. This closet was also, apparently, next to the wall phone as he heard Angel speaking on odd intervals. He couldn’t hear much, but what he could hear concerned him. Something about ‘purchases’ and ‘changes of plans. It all made Alastor’s fingertips cold with fear and his chest felt tight.

The lack of context is torturous. Alastor can think of many scenarios that fit and each is more horrible than the last.

He listens to Angel go about his business. Sometimes he comes, sometimes he goes. Alastor’s location is in no way acknowledged. There was one particular instance where Angel was done for a while, and when he returned, Alastor could hear him dragging something across the hall. It sounded like he was moving things.

He tried very hard not to think about it.

~~~

“Oh, my love… Are you awake?”

Three cheery raps on the door startled Alastor to consciousness as the door to the closet swung open. He struggled to push himself into a sitting position with his hands and feet tied as they were. Angel was standing in the doorway with a bright smile on his face, but there was a harsh curl to it.

“We have a very big day ahead of us, I hope you’re ready!”

Alastor had so many things he wanted to say, questions he wanted to ask. Why was today a big day? What was Angel going to do to him? Why was he still alive? But he didn’t ask any of these questions because in between eye blinks Angel had drawn his gun and was gently but firmly helping Alastor to his feet.

“Let’s get you clean and fed, hmm? And then we can talk about how today is going to go.” Alastor felt the gun press against his back. “You’re not going to try any funny business this time, right beloved?” 

Alastor swallowed the sour taste of fear welling in his throat.

“No! ...No.” He looked down at himself, still covered in mud and ripped clothes. Dried sweat and a bit of blood from scraped hands and knees, long since scabbed over. He could definitely use a shower. “That sounds… Nice, Angel.”

Angel gave him a sunny smile and escorted him to the bathroom, where he left out some comfortable slacks and a shirt, well-worn and soft. His favorite. Alastor did  _ not _ want to think about how Angel got it. He simply went to shower, grateful for the opportunity to get the thick layer of muck off of him.

~~~ 

Clean and dressed, Alastor was sat in the dining room and presented with a plate of eggs and toast. 

He was unrestrained, but Angel hadn’t put the gun away, and was sitting opposite him, between him and the door. Alastor, ironically, felt more trapped here than he did in the basement. At least there, he hadn’t felt so… Exposed. Like he was staring down the barrel of a gun. A deer in the maw of something hungry.

“Now, Alastor. We need to talk.”

Alastor looked up, carefully saying nothing.

“My ticket back to Now York is for today.”

Alastor raised his eyebrows despite himself, schooling his face back into neutrality quickly. He didn’t want to make any wrong moves. Not in general, but certainly not now. It sounded too good to be true, and that made Alastor certain he was missing something.

“You- You’re going home?”

Angel let out a manic little giggle, giving him a fond look.

“No silly.  _ We’re _ going home.”

Oh.

“I finished packing last night. We’re all ready to go.” He said sunnily. “I just need to sort out your… seating arrangements.”

That sounded… rather ominous.

~~~

“You want me to  _ what?” _

“You have a chase, beloved. There’s no wrong answer. I know it’s a little fast…”

“It’s ridicu-”

Alastor catches himself just in time. No need to inflate Angel’s ire, but still…

They were in what must have been Angel’s bedroom. The place was stripped bare with a few suitcases on the bed. The other man was watching him while a guileless smile on his face, the ring still in his hand. A humble but beautiful ruby nestled among a ring of black stones. The gold band glinted in the light.

“I said what I said.” Angel said curtly. “I will let my  _ fiance _ sit next to me on the train. Naughty prisoners, no matter how loved they are, don’t get luxury seating. Especially when I’m still angry at them for trying to run away.”

Alastor snorted, pride overtaking his good sense for a few moments. He fought down a retort that he would be as much a prisoner a fiance as he would be now, but he couldn’t resist asking

“Oh? And where does said prisoner go, then?”

Angel didn’t stop smiling pleasantly as he gestured at the bed. He noticed the suitcase Angel was gesturing to was the biggest of them. Open and empty.

Alastor felt sick as he realised the implications.

Alastor stood frozen, Angel watching him with a keen eye. His mind was racing a mile a minute, pride, indigance, and caution warring inside of him. On one hand, The thought of being stuffed into the suitcase, large for what it was but still very much not meant to hold a human man, and kept blind and helpless in that tiny, tight space…. It was far from appealing. Even so, on the other, the thought of accepting a- a  _ proposal _ , of all things. After everything Angel had done… Everything he surely planned to do… 

Something in Alastor revolted at the thought.

It was what Angel wanted. For Alastor to lean into those fantasies, those desires Angel had.

Alastor was not a stupid man, but he was prideful to a fault. And he couldn’t, for the life of him, simply give in and let Angel twist his arm. Angel had him in checkmate here, he couldn’t run, couldn’t fight. Weak, emancipated, and at a disadvantage in every way, Angel truly had narrowed down Alastor’s options to these two choices.

But Alastor would not simply fold and give Angel what he wanted.

He couldn’t.

“I'll go with the suitcase, thank you.”

He said curtly. Angel didn’t look angry, he just kept serenely smiling fondly, like that was the call he expected Alastor to make, and found Alastor’s attempts at rebellion endearing. It grated on Alastor’s nerves as Angel picked up a coil of rope he already seemed to have prepared.

Angel had read him like a book. He grit his teeth and tried not to let his irritation show.

“Sit on the bed, beloved. This is going to take a little contortion on your part.”

Alastor waited a few seconds, seriously contemplating bolting for the door, but Angel was watching him keenly, the gun on his hip. He had squandered Angel’s trust, and was clearly going to be given no faith after that, so he sighed and he sat.

“I was going to break your legs you know.” Angel said conversationally as he took up the rope and pulled Alastor’s hands and arms behind his back. “But then I thought that this would hurt you ever so much if I did. So I’ll spare you that fate. For now.”

Angel tied Alastor’s arms carefully but tightly, leaving him no room to wriggle. When he seemed satisfied he turned to face Alastor. His eyes were dark, inky… something, swirled in them, like a bright, hungry mania.

“But know that if yo0u  _ ever _ step out of line again, you will never so much as cross a room easily again.”

Alastor swallowed quietly. Licking his lips a little. 

“Right.”

“Just making sure we understand each other.”

Alastor’s legs received the same treatment as his arms. Tied together snugly and leaving Alastor to lie helplessly on the bed, propping himself up difficult on the plush surface. Angel chuckled a little and ran a hand softly along Alastor’s side. It made his skin prickle.

“Look at you, all wrapped up for me. Like a present… Like a little bug, all wrapped up in my web… Oh! And I almost forgot!”

Alastor wasn’t even aware or what Angel was doing until there was a gag being forced into his mouth.

He didn’t have time to protest, but he turned to glare and made muffled, angry noises through the fabric.

“I know the gag is usually a punishment, but I’ll remind you you’re in trouble right now. Plus, can’t have you making a fuss on the train. This should at least keep you a little quieter. It’s a three day trip, I wouldn't want you to make a… rash decision.”

Angel lifted him with ease, whether it a testament to his decreased mass or Angel’s strength, Alastor wasn’t sure, before painstakingly folding him into the suitcase. Even with the lid open it was cramped and tight. Alastor’s nose was pressed up against his knees, his arms pressing into his back.

Angel gently checked the gag, making sure Alastor’s fingers and hair wouldn't get caught in the clips. His eyes were soft and full of something sweet and loving. He lovingly caressed Alastor's face as Alastor’s stomach sank. 

Three days like this…

A wave of defeat hit him like a physical blow as he realised he was utterly and totally trapped. Something he had known on a theoretical level since Angel had carried him back here, but was only truly hitting home now, as Angel prepared to steal him away from his hometown, likely never to return. His little rebellions were just that, small defiances against a force that had him, at least for the moment, well and truly dominated.

"See you on the other side, darling... When I let you out again, we'll be home."

Angel took one last look at him, before carefully shutting the suitcase and plunging Alastor into darkness, the final click of the lock a damning sound in the dark.

~~~

Being carried was disorienting.

Inside the suitcase was dark and cramped. There might have been a little shaft of light, were his legs not pressed tightly flush against the keyhole, effectively smothering any light that might have been able to filter through. As if that weren’t bad enough, muffled sounds were his only connection to the outside world. There were strange clacks, like heels on floorboards, he had seen Angel wear dresses and skirts before, so perhaps that was him walking about. There were distant thuds that were… Probably doors closing. The occasional hiss, ever so close to him, that he eventually coined as Angel stroking the leather of the case, soft, affectionate touches to the barrier between Alastor and him. 

It did something cold and crawling in Alastor’s stomach, the facsimile of touch setting him on edge.

But the true discomfort came when the case was picked up. A strange weightlessness, disorienting and troubling. He felt like he should be falling, the slightest shift in weight making the case sway and tild. Only suspended by Angel’s support, he was left entirely at his mercy. If Angel decided to drop him off a building, throw the case in the swamp, into a fire…. What could he do? Nothing, was the answer. Nothing at all. Even the thought of Angel simply slipping and letting the case fall to the ground filled Alastor with an acute paranoia, knowing he would have no way to catch himself.

He tried very hard to keep still and keep the swaying to a minimum, but there was only so much he could help. There was a tilt and sway that simply came from Angel presumably walking. It made Alastor just a little nauseous, but he swallowed it down. He would not like to be trapped in here with his own vomit.

The unpleasant sensation continued for some time, opening and closing of doors following them, before he was set down somewhere solid once again. He was only allowed a split second of relief before the roar of an engine reminded him of what was going on here.

Alastor hadn’t been in many automobiles. He liked to walk, and his city wasn’t designed for that. Too many twists and turns. Narrow streets and narrower roads. Now he found himself in one in the worst possible circumstance.

Vibrations through the walls of the case informed him that the car was moving.

Alastor felt his heart tear from his chest, lodged firmly in the bayou as he was forcefully removed from it.

~~~

Alastor had fallen asleep at some point. Now that he thought about it, there may have been something in the glass of juice Angel had been insistent he drank before shocking him and pulling out a ring.

He was woken by the shrill whistle of a train about to leave the station.

Alastor awoke groggily and in pitch blackness. He tried to rub his eyes only to helplessly wriggle and hit walls everywhere he tried to move. His situation returned to him quickly.

“There you are…” A soft, muffled voice came from right above him. “You were so good and quiet for me on the way here... I was starting to think something might be wrong~”

Angel was teasing him and Alastor felt something well in his throat. It almost felt like tears, but he elected to call it anger instead. He wanted to spit some sort of biting reply back, but the gag stopped that in its tracks. He did angrily thrash and growl as loud as he was able though.

“Hey now, stop that.” Angel’s quiet voice was ice cold suddenly, cold as the muzzle of his gun, and Alastor did. “We’re in public, don’t throw a fit. I can make this worse for you. I don’t want to, but I can.”

Alastor didn’t doubt it, so he settled.

“Just rest easy, my love. Let me worry about the difficult things. We’ll be home soon enough.”

~~~

Time… passed. 

It was hard to say how much. Alastor knew nothing but the tight confinement of the case. The rumble of the train was distant background noise and every so often Angel would speak to him, the soft hissing of him stroking the case accompanying it. He was occasionally moved or shifted, though never far. Angel seemed to be keeping him on the seat next to him.

He would talk about how well he would take care of Alastor once they got to New York. The people he would meet.

“You have to meet Molly, she’s so excited I’m bringing you home. Don’t worry, she ain’t judgy. Although… You probably ain’t gonna meet the rest of my family. Not If I have anything to say ‘bout it…. My pops and I used to be close but… Anyways, Molly’s the most fun of ‘em by far, so you ain’t missing much. And Cherri! You gotta meet her…”

Alastor wanted to tune it out, but the alternative was being in the dark with no stimulation. With the gag in his mouth once again, drying his mouth and stopping him from speaking… Totally unable to move. 

So despite the fact that Angel was detailing something as disturbed as Alastor’s immediate fate, he had little choice but to listen.

Alastor kept wondering, hoping, that someone would notice this behaviour. That someone might… notice something. That somebody, anybody, would spot something amiss and save him. Open the case and untie him.

But it was looking increasingly unlikely.

Alastor knew, deep inside, that nobody was going to help him.

Still, it was nice to dream.

~~~

More time passed. 

Alastor did not sleep anymore, although from being moved a little and then the sound of soft snuffling from his right, Angel did. His arms were asleep from Alastor’s own weight pressing on them. 

Alastor simply… existed, waiting for something to happen. 

Finally, after god knows how long, there was true movement. The train noises stopped and the commotion of a crowd going about their business started. Alastor was lifted and Angel carried him somewhere. They walked for some time, although Alastor had no way of telling where.

It was colder here though.

It wasn’t the sticky warmth of his home, or even the surrounding areas. It was significantly closer, which means they were significantly more north than where they started.

Alastor was miles from home.

Angel walked, the case swaying as he did so and Alastor tried not to make it any worse. There was a heartstopping moment where Angel must have stumbled, because he suddenly dropped, leaving his stomach in his throat, but other than that he simply waited to be put down again.

What else could he do?

He was, eventually, placed on a soft surface. It had give when he moved a little, and he bounced when presumably, Angel sat next to him.

“Almost there, beloved.” Angel stroked the case again, louder now he was presumably not in public anymore. “One night here, and then one more day on the train. Then we’re home.”

Alastor wanted to say he was very far from home. 

Alastor wanted to say a lot of things.

But he was not  _ able  _ to say any of them.

Angel disappeared for a few moments, before moving the case a little. Repositioning it? And knocking lightly on it.

“Are you awake, my love? I have some water for you, if you’ll behave.”

Water…

As much as Alastor wanted to deny, the fabric of the gag and the sweat he’d shed due to his own body heat in the small space, he was dreadfully thirsty. He whimpered a little at the thought of a cool drink, and sighed.

He rocked himself as much as he was able, the only response he could give that Angel could see. He heard his captor chuckle and the click of the lock. The rush of cool, fresh air and the sudden lack of compression on his body was breathtaking. Alastor coughed and squirmed a bit to look up at Angel, who was carefully undoing the gag and supporting his back and head a bit so he was somewhat upright. They appeared to be in some sort of hotel, a small room with only a bed and a kitchenette, the door no doubt tightly locked.

“Here, my love. Drink. Small sips.”

A glass was held to his lips and he did. Any time he tried to drink too fast for Angel’s liking the glass was pulled away (“You’ll make yourself sick…”) but otherwise the cool water almost tasted sweet with the relief it brought.

“There… Good, you’re doing so well… Is that nice?”

When the water was gone, Angel kept supporting him a little longer, stroking his hair. Alastor wanted to pull away, but he legitimately did not have the energy to hold himself up, and when Angel gently pressed down on his forehead to put his head in Angel’s lap, he couldn’t fight back.

He closed his eyes and tried to pretend it wasn’t happening. If he disconnected himself from the situation, it almost felt like his mo-

He stopped that train of thought immediately.

His body ached so acutely. One day of travel after this meant he’d been in the case two days, and he was so, so sore. All he could think about was how good it would feel to stretch out. Extend his muscles and crack the stiffness out of his bones. He needed it like a man in a desert needed a drink.

“Oh, my love… What’s that face? What’s on your mind, hmm?”

Angel giggled and lightly tapped his nose.

“I’m so sore, I want to stretch out… Please… Please just let me-”

Alastor shut his mouth with a click as Angel’s eyes went hard.

“I’m sorry, my darling, but I’m not falling for that again.”

“But I-”

The gag was shoved back in his mouth with perhaps a little more force than necessary.

“I’ll remind you that you’re still in trouble for the last time you pulled that stunt. I love you, I do, but I’m doing this to keep you safe. I won’t let you self sabotage by running away from me again.” 

Angel took his head from his lap and folded Alastor back into the case. 

“If you’re just going to keep trying to trick me, I’m not opening this again until we’re home and you’re under lock and key.”

He shut the case firmly, the click of the lock implying he meant his words with full sincerity. 

Alastor was once again trapped, unable to tell Angel that this time there had been no trick at all.

~~~

Alastor remained miserable and sore, unable to sleep for the terrible discomfort. At some point, the disconcerting swooping of the case being picked up and moved jolted him.

Back on the train they went.

The rest of the trip went much the same way as it had the first time, and Alastor barely noticed it go by. He got lost in his head and simply… stayed there. He could hear the train, Angel, people… But none of it really registered. Everything felt like static, indistinct and hazy. Like all of this was some strange dream that he’d wake up from any minute now.

He, of course, knew that it was folly. It was too good to be true.

_ “Last call for Grand Central!” _

Someone shouting finally cut through Alastor’s hazy state of existence and he blinked a few times, not that it made any difference to what he could actually see.

The case was picked up again and the sound of crowds increased as Angel presumably got off the train and stepped into the station. Even through the walls of his prison, Alastor could hear the roar of people crammed into a small space on a scale he’d probably never seen before. It was overwhelming, even muffled as it was, not that he could reach up to cover his ears. Every sound and sway made something hot and uncomfortable build in his chest. It felt like it was building up and squeezing his lungs, making it hard to breathe.

Literally any one of these people could help him, any one of them if he just made enough noise… Enough of a scene… Maybe make Angel drop the case…. 

But the memory of the cold barrel of the gun stayed his hand, simply leaving him to pray that someone,  _ anyone _ , noticed something amiss.

As time ticked by and Angel navigated the station, Alastor’s already fragile hope had dwindled with every passing second. 

If even here, surrounded by throngs of people, nobody would help him.

~~~

“Sorry, Miss? You’ve been chosen for a random baggage check, can you please come with me?”

Alastor’s heart leapt, eyes flying open when he heard that. The case jerked a little and there were a few tense moments of silence. He wondered if Angel would start running, if he would fight. He wondered if it was worthwhile trying to scream through the gag now and try get this person’s attention…

This was it- His chance…

“The search is conducted in private, so you don’t need to worry about anything sensitive being pulled out in public.”

Alastor frowned. Something about that sounded… Odd, but still he didn't allow himself to be disheartened. In private or not, if someone opened the case, he would be free, Angel would be exposed… 

He could go home.

Angel’s silence was broken.

“Oh, right Officer. Of course.”

They were moving again and Alastor was prepared for anything. For gunfire, for sudden movement, for the case to spring open. He tensed himself, prepared to struggle or lunge away from a weapon shoved in his face. His mind raced with possibilities, alongside a chanting voice in his head that said ‘ _ please, please, please…’ _ . He could go home to his house, sleep in a bed, the ropeburn on his wrists would heal and he could cook his own dinner...

“Right here please,  _ Miss. _ ”

There was a strange note in the officer’s tone and when Angel spoke again, it sounded as if he was smirking.

“Jack, ya dog, gave me a heart attack.”

Wh- What?

“Sorry Angel, appearances and all that. Heard you’ve been outta town?”

“Pops sent me down south to manage the booze and drug ring. Boring stuff.”

The officer, Jack, apparently, made an interested noise as Alastor’s hopes for returning home crashed around him, dousing Alastor in a cold, heavy feeling.

“And you brought back some souvenirs? Mind sharing? As… advanced payment?”

“This ain’t something you can share.”

“Oh come on, don’t I deserve some compensation? I’m puttin’ my neck on the line to inform you guys. The least you can do is cut me in the good stuff.”

Angel made an annoyed tsking sound and he felt the case jerk a bit, like it had been tugged closer to the edge of where it had been set down. Alastor half expected to plummet into some unseen abyss, but no such thing happened. Angel’s voice got a little more distinct though.

“It ain’t booze. Ain’t drugs either. Can’t share this, so please stop ridin’ me about it.”

Angel’s voice had gone low and annoyed. It made shivers go up Alastor’s spine and he tried to squash down the instinctive fear reaction that pooled alongside the frustration and turmoil in his chest.

Because really?  _ Really? _

Angel gets pulled aside by an officer of the law for a baggage inspection, and it’s a crook in police clothing. Alastor’s own opinions on police notwithstanding, he had been so, so sure that this would be it.

His chance.

He should have known better than to get his hopes up. Hadn’t his time with Angel already proven that to be a bad idea?

He was a fool.

“-At least let me take a look. You’re holding that thing awfully protective-like.”

“No.”

“Oh come on, Angel. Don’t make me beg. Or call for backup.”

“You’d seriously rat me out for curiosity?”

“That and the fact that you’re acting real cagey right now. So go on, open it up.”

There was a frustrated sigh.

“Go make sure the door is locked.”

There were footsteps walking away from them and a soft hissing above Alastor’s head.

“No funny business, beloved. Or I shoot.”

Alastor couldn’t respond if he wanted to, but the footsteps returned and Angel let out another aggravated sigh.

“You tell nobody what you see here, or I’m goin’ straight to pops. Hear me?”

“I’m so curious. What the hell has you actin’ like this? But yeah, I’ll bite. Won’t tell nobody.”

“Okay.”

The lock clicked and Alastor cringed at the light, even though the room they were in wasn’t especially bright. Alastor looked around wildly, trying to orient and look at the two people staring at him. Angel was watching Alastor closely, leaving him no room to make a move of any sort. The officer, a tall man who looked to be made mostly of muscle, was looking between Alastor and Angel, a strange look in his eye. The teasing curiosity from before was gone, replaced with a stoic seriousness.

Alastor fixed the man with a pleading look, trying despite himself to form words behind his gag and beg. 

After three days in that case he was well beyond pride. He doesn’t know if this will work, but he can’t not try.

He can’t.

The officer pursed his lips and was quiet for a few seconds. He looked as if he was going to say something, his lips even parted, before he seemed to think better of it and shut them again. He reached up. Both Alastor and Angel tensed, wondering if he was going to help Alastor out… But he simply reached for the lid and shut the case again.

“I’m sorry for interrupting you on your important business, Miss. Please be on your way, and have a safe journey.”

His voice was clipped, like he was following a script. Angel picked up the case again quickly.

“Thank you, Officer.”

~~~

The next time Alastor was exposed to light, he didn’t bother looking up. He stayed limp in the case, utterly defeated. He was weak, hungry, tired, and sore. What was the point in fighting?

Angel carefully pulled him out of the case and lay him out on something soft. A bed, and an expensive one, if the rest of the room was any indication. It was small but tasteful. A window nearby showed an expanse of darkening sunset, with a skyline disappearing into the distance. They must be high off the ground. A hand caressed his face and Alastor just closed his eyes and let it happen. He had slept so much in the three days here, but he was still so tired.

“You did so well on the way here…” Angel said, reaching to untie the gag, stroking Alastor’s face as he removed it. “Travelling’s so tiring, but you did such a good job.”

Alastor just let the words pass him. Tried not to let the praise lodge in his chest. After his ordeal, a gentle touch, a soft word… With his emotional state as it was, they seemed to want to caress and comfort him. He could feel himself reaching out to them, aching for comfort. Any kind, even if it came in the form of twisted affection. 

Still, he held his resolve.

He wasn’t broken yet.

No matter how cracked and bent he felt.

He felt Angel untie his legs and stretch them out for him. It was almost painful in it’s relief, the joints making crunching noises as he was able to move them freely for the first time in three days. In the time since Angel had stolen him away from his house his whole body had become emancipated, his body mass all but evaporating after having his movement so severely limited so long. 

Alastor could feel that his body was weak. It was at the point where if Angel were to simply leave him heref, he didn’t even know if he would be able to stand and cross the room to open the door.

His arms are given the same treatment. Angel untied them carefully, and soft, capable hands extended them and tested their movement. When Angel was satisfied, he took one of Alastor’s hands in his and rubbed the back of it softly with his thumb.

“Welcome home, my beloved Alastor.”

~~~

Angel is in high spirits and it shows. Angel left Alastor in bed to go prepare him something to eat (“I’m sorry, it’ll be simple, but when I go shopping tomorrow I can make us a proper homecoming feast!”). Alastor thought the lack of restraints somewhat odd until he tried to stand and found his earlier theory to be correct. He couldn’t stand on his own, as proven when he went tumbling to the floor upon trying. 

(Much to his mortification, he was  _ also _ unable to get back on the bed, and had to call for Angel’s help.

“Silly billy,” Angel said fondly, with a touch of both satisfaction and concern in his eye. “Don’t try to get up, my love, you’ll hurt yourself.”)

Some time after that Angel returned with some soup and sandwiches, which Angel served to him on a small tray after helping him to a seat by the window. Angel hand-fed him after Alastor’s own hands had been too shaky to hold the spoon steadily. As Angel fed him and spoke aimlessly about how good their life would be now they were ‘home’, Alastor looked down at the streets below.

They were a  _ long _ way up, this building might well be the tallest Alastor had ever seen, let alone been in. And still buildings on the skyline towered well above their position. The streets below cut a forighn figure, a concrete labyrinth of black and grey, busy with cars and people all dashing about their business.

Alastor imagined being down there with them, lost in that rushing river of bodies. Being pushed and shoved, wandering lost through allies that lead to block after block of identical buildings.

His skin crawled at the thought.

He was so utterly out of his depth.

He felt sick, and when Angel tried to feed him more he refused it. No amount of coaxing or threatening on Angel’s part changed his stance.

“At least you ate most of it…”

Angel muttered as he stood. He stroked Alastor’s hair softly and left him by the window while he went to wash the bowl.

~~~

The day after they got to the city, there was an excited rapping on the door, loud enough to beard from wherever Alastor was in the house.

“Angie!”

Alastor heard what sounded like a woman squeal. He heard Angel speaking, and a third voice, deeper and quiet than the other two, although too soft to discern any sort of sense from them. The handcuffs keeping him to the headboard jangled as he turned to hear better (The cuffs were wholly unnecessary, but Angel cited concerns about Alastor falling out of bed again.). The sounds kept up, approaching him for a while, before peeling off to presumably somewhere Angel could entertain guests.

Alastor tracked them from the bed, listening to them make their way about the house. From the few times they came close enough to the door to overhear conversation, Angel seemed close with these people. Friends, perhaps? Or family. He certainly seemed to get on well with the woman, the two of them talking at each other a mile a minute in, from the sounds of it, multiple languages. The man didn’t seem to input much, but whether that was a lack of closeness or just because he was taciturn, Alastor couldn’t say.

He let his eyes slip shut again.

Angel probably wouldn’t bring them into this room anyway. At least he could sleep knowing Angel wouldn’t come in while he was asleep.

He drifted off into sleep, and dreamed about his mother singing as she cooked something spiced and wonderful.

It was a good dream.

~xxXXxx~

While Alastor slept, Angel sat only a few rooms over talking to his siblings.

“You guys didn’t have to come over so soon you know, I know pops probably has you workin’ hard.”

“Don’t be silly Angie, you’ve been gone almost a month. We wanted to see you! Right Archie?”

Archie only nodded stiffly, but Archie… Well he wasn’t a big talker. The fact that we was here and using the correct name and pronouns was a testament to how much his and Angel’s relationship had started to improve from when they were children. Stern indifference slowly turning into a quiet, pragmatic protectiveness.

“It’s good to see you both again.” 

Angel said with a fond smile, before rocking forward and putting his hands in his lap, considering them both.

He knew that revealing what he’d brought back to the family would be a delicate affair. He would have to be careful about how he phrased it, and how he presented it, but he had a feeling he knew how to spin it so that his father would allow it, even though he wanted to marry another man.

But someone had to find out first, and these two were the people he wanted to know the most. Still, he would make sure that Alastor was asleep before he led them to him. He wanted to be Alastor’s whole world, limiting his contact with people as much as possible. To be Alastor’s sole life companion, and for him to know nothing and nobody else. 

There would be some meetings that were inevitable, but he could control this one, at least.

“I want to show you both something.”

~~~

Unlocking the door and peeking past it, Angel couldn’t help but smile when he saw Alastor fast asleep. 

He was sleeping a lot these days, but that was okay. Angel was more than happy to take care of him while he acclimatized. And when he was ready to listen to Angel wholly and fully, Angel would help him regain his strength.

Well… Maybe not  _ too _ much strength.

“Come on in, but be quiet. He’s asleep.”

His siblings entered the room as Angel made his way to Alastor’s side, seeing his hair had flopped before his face and stroking it out of the way. They both took in the sight for a few seconds and Angel watched them keenly for a reaction, body angled towards Alastor as if to protect him from them.

Molly spoke first.

“Angie, when you said you were bringing him home, I wasn’t expecting… The cuffs.”

Angel looked for an explanation. Something that summed up the raging torrent of emotions that had led to this point. The desperation, the addiction he had to this man. 

“I… Couldn’t not have him.” He decided on, eventually. “Leaving him behind… It was never an option. I know it sounds crazy, but from the second I saw him in person, I knew I was gone. I didn’t have a choice.” 

He could feel himself tearing up at the very thought. The idea of life without Alastor enough to take the ground out from beneath his feet. 

Molly took a step forward and Angel tensed, bristling at the movement. She held up her hands placatingly, slowly getting closer.

Molly looked the man up and down. He was handsome, if frail looking. Neither sibling were forign to what a captive looked like after a few weeks of being restrained. And yet there didn’t seem to be any  _ damage. _ In fact the man looked quite well taken care of.

“This is your radio host then?” 

She asked quietly. Angel nodded as a real smile, small but bright, bloomed on his face. Seeing it for the olive branch it was.

“I don’t understand it, Angie. But if he makes you happy…”

“Thanks Molls.”

They both looked up at their older brother, wondering if they would have to stop him from doing something. The twins were all but unable to hurt each other in their closeness, but their older brother could be something of a wild card.

Archie looked deep in thought. The twins could practically see the cogs turning. It didn’t look like he was about to start shooting, but one never knew with Archie. Man had one hell of a poker face.

“Archie?”

Eventually their older brother sighed, starting to talk in a clipped tone.

“A radio host. People would notice.” Archie said it, not accusing, but stating facts. “Did you take care of that?”

Angel nodded.

“There was… a serial killer in town. They assumed he got him. He was presumed dead. House seized, lost his job. Nobody’s looking for a liveman.”

“How did you bring him here?”

“Carried him in a case. Got intercepted by Jack at Grand Central, but otherwise nobody saw ‘im.”

The interrogation was as close as Angel was going to get to approval from his older brother. Checking that Angel wouldn’t get followed or tracked as a kidnapper. Protecting him in the only way he really knew how to express. 

Angel appreciated it.

“I figured pops would be happy I found a man I was willing to settle down with… Be a housewife for… He won’t be able to work, but…”

But Henroin would be quite happy to funnel money into his prodigal child if it meant ‘she’ would finally fall into a role he understood. 

Archie’s lips were tight, but he didn’t look unfriendly. Angel was suddenly overwhelmed with emotion at his siblings’ support. His smile grew and he tugged Molly closer. He looked over at Archie and extended a hand to him.

“Come here you sourpuss.”

Archie stepped forward and Angel pulled him into the hug. As he squeezed his siblings tight, Angel looked down at Alastor’s peacefully sleeping face and felt his heart, something in his chest, click into place like it had always belonged there. Although there was a long way to go, Angel felt  _ right. _

It was a good feeling.

He knew, in his heart of hearts, that this was the beginning of the rest of his life. And he, for one, couldn’t  _ wait _ for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you wondering, Officer Jack's change in demeanour came about because he wasn't expecting something as serious as a kidnapping. He doesn't have a great grasp of the consiquences of associating with the mob. He expected some light smuggling, and when he saw Alastor realised he was stuck between something his morals objected to and pissing off a mafia prince.


	6. A Turning Point (MANDATORY AUTHOR’S NOTE!!!!!!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mandatory note regarding formatting changes in the upcoming chapters and how to navigate them.

URGENT, PLEASE READ:

So, due to my general indecisiveness, this story is getting  **5 endings** . I know. Exciting, right? That's all well and good, but it means in the meantime we have some housekeeping to do.

I said this in the beginning, but due to renewed concerns I am happy to reiterate, that there is and always will be ZERO sexual content in this story, however there WILL be some disturbing content in some of the endings. 

**I HAVE TRIED TO ORDER THE CHAPTERS FROM LEAST DISTURBING TO MOST DISTURBING.**

But I’m well aware that isn't how triggers work so I’m also implementing the following systems. Naturally, we want to keep everyone safe, so I’m going to warn appropriately, but I want everyone to  _ know _ where to find those warnings, both so nobody gets hurt and my comment section doesn’t get flooded with rage.

_ The first thing in the beginning notes will be whether Angel ‘wins’ in this ending. _

I will make it clear that the ending doesn’t end well for Alastor and if you don’t want to see that, it’s your chance to back out.    
  
I will also include comprehensive lists of tws in the following locations:

I will be putting the **MAJOR TRIGGER WARNINGS** in the  _ TITLE OF THE CHAPTER _

I will be putting a  **FULL LIST OF TRIGGER WARNINGS** in the  _ BEGINNING NOTES OF THE CHAPTER _

And I will be  **LIVE UPDATING THE WORK’S MAIN TAGLIST**

**Please mind the tags and read safely so we can all continue to have fun.**

And no, I cannot give you an approximate idea of when the endings will come. My muses work as they will. I don't control them.

Hope you enjoy the various endings~


	7. Ending 1 - Runaway Groom (TW: Attempted forced marrage)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Alastor's wedding night, he ponders escape one last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ENDING SPOILERS: Alastor 'wins' this ending
> 
> TW list: Attempted forced marrage, Thunderstorms, Mentions of panic attacks
> 
> Notes: Heyo! I'm back with the first of the five endings! Thank you all for your patience through the holidays. My return does go out in particular to a very special commenter (you know who you are) who's words got me off my ass and behind my keyboard again. Try not to judge me too harshly for this chapter, it's far from my best work, but I really hit a wall with this one. The next few will be better, I'm just proud of myself for finishing.
> 
> Just a short one to start! Call it a warm up if you will. Tbh, this one's not my favorite, it feels kinda flat, but I have plenty of time to write endings that I'm proud of. Hopefully the next one won't take as long.

Even over the storm raging outside, Alastor could hear the bodyguards outside of his room gossiping.

Hired muscle no doubt. Supposedly to stop people disturbing him. But Alastor doubted it. He somewhat recognised the voices. Not by name, but he knew them to be some of the faces that regularly accompanied Angel’s father on the… few times he came to visit. 

The man, Henroin apparently, had been shockingly enthusiastic about Alastor’s existence, considering how on edge Angel seemed about introducing them. Angel had warned him (at gunpoint) to be on his “Very best behaviour for Pops. Man makes me look like a kitten.”. With that charming image in mind, Alastor had shaken the patriarch's hand and greeted him with the sort of respect he saved for people that he had no intention whatsoever of crossing. 

A tentatance that proved incredibly justified considering the next time he saw him, the man shot a fellow in the forehead. 

Angel seemed to hold no real love for his father except in long-gone memories. Something had evidently changed since then. Still, he respected the family’s seemingly adamant insistence on being included in ‘family affairs’. A phrase that, to Alastor’s experience, encapsulated funerals, sketchy dealings of hooch and drugs, christening parties, and…

The suit, freshly pressed and laundered, hung on the back of the door and stared him down like a judge. 

He sighed and turned away from it. Looking to the window, he peered into the pouring rain outside, like it could give him answers to the non-questions he was tormenting himself with. A bolt of lightning struck and Alastor took a breath, counting the seconds between the strike and the thunder.

One, two, three-

The rumble cut his count off. Less than last time. It was getting closer.

_ It could be worse.  _ He told himself,  _ You’ll learn to like it in time. _

He wished it sounded more convincing in his head. He really shouldn’t have been surprised that it had culminated in this, especially with how things had gone that fateful morning they caught the train, yet for some reason he had still been shocked when Angel pulled out the small velveteen box from years ago.

This time he had not been afforded the chance to accept or refuse, Angel simply smiled at him, told him it was time, and kissed the back of his hand softly as he slipped the ring onto Alastor’s finger.

~~~

It had been almost three years since Alastor had been ki-  _ relocated _ to New York and life had… settled. He couldn’t say for certain that he was  _ happy, _ but things had gotten easier. 

When he’d stopped fighting.

He lived in a nice penthouse suite in New York City. Alastor didn’t know a tonne about prices around here, but he could guess that it cost a fortune. He wouldn't know, as he didn’t own nor pay for it. He didn’t need to work to keep it or feed himself. Good thing too, because some time after all this went down, the economy fell apart in a delightfully life-ruining way. Alastor was free to snicker at stories of orphans and dying homeless without judgement or fear of the effects of the crash himself.

Angel’s family had pulled some strings and got him a job at the local station, and while it wasn’t quite his office back home, it was more than he’d ever been expecting to be allowed. He’d built up a base of listeners and while there were fewer repeated names in a city this large, he even got letters through the station the way he used to.

He used to keep them, back home, but…

Well even though they were destined for the fire, he still read every single one.

He would come home from work to find Angel, having made them both a delicious dinner, waiting for him at the door. Every day, like at 5pm on the dot Angel dropped everything and eagerly waited for him to return. He said that he couldn’t wait for Alastor’s return, and simply had to wait there to make sure he saw him the very second Alastor arrived. That could be true. Or perhaps he was waiting to see if Alastor would cut his losses and run. Maybe both. Either way, Alastor never did. The thought passed him briefly but…

He always felt eyes on his back on the way home, always felt like he was never quite alone. Alastor trusted his intuition when it came to things like that. He couldn’t stand the thought of being hunted like an animal again. Memories of being run through the swamps like an animal made his throat feel tight and his breathing hitch and threaten hyperventilation. He could not quite bring himself to deviate from his course back to the penthouse. Not with those eyes on him.

When he arrived, Angel would take his coat and ask him about his day. He would talk to Alastor about the stories he read today, having listened from home, and sometimes Alastor even found himself having a good time talking about it all. 

So, yes, things were fine. He was still alive and whole, he was comfortable even. And sometimes life felt… good even. He still got to cook (on occasion) and do the job he loved, and even had financial security beyond anything he could ever known before all this. He had no room to complain. Angel had certainly lived up to his vow. Alastor was very well taken care of. He repeated that to himself every night as he lie in bed.

And if life lacked it’s gleam from before? If he missed killing? Well… Given the circumstances, some things surely had to change. As it was he existed like he was floating through a dream. Slightly numb and grey, but not harmful. Occasionally restless, but that was the worst of it. He was lucky he wasn’t worse off.

It was better than a basement, at least.

But it still came with it’s caveats. 

~~~

Another lightning strike.

One, two…

That was all. The storm was nearly upon them.

Tomorrow morning he would don that suit and be escorted to the church down the road. For some reason that reality shone through the dream-haze and settled cold in his stomach. 

It felt real, solid in his belly, the way everything else had failed to since arriving in New York. It sent painful shots of panic into his body that no amount of self soothing or reasoning he had relied on until now was quite able to quell.

It was… Distressing. Because if that stopped  _ working _ then…

Another bolt of lightning lit up the room and Alastor started counting again, trying to dismiss the cold hand of panic. The last time he let it overtake him, Angel had found him curled in a ball under the desk, struggling to get his breathing under control.

_ “Come on now beloved. Calm. Breathe with me. In, out, in, out.” _

Angel had helped him even out his breathing, soft hands rubbing his back. It had helped. If it were anybody else, Alastor would have been thankful beyond words. As it was, he simply felt dirty.

He relied on Angel far too much these days.

A loud crash of thunder made him jump and jolted him out of his thoughts. 

He’d stopped counting.

The ring on his finger felt unbearably tight, and the room felt hot. He stared at the window harder. The shadow of the fire escape a dark hulking shape around the frame. Claustrophobia welled up and he made an attempt at opening the window. 

For just a moment he indulged the fantasy of the window flinging wide open, a welcoming door back home. Of squirming through onto the fire exit and disappearing into the storm. The rain would cover his tracks. He could- The vision hit him suddenly and he almost reeled back from it. 

The window didn’t fly open though. It didn’t open far at all, just a crack. Alastor’s hands tightened around the sill. His knuckles were white with how hard he was clenching them, the ring bit into his flesh.

His hands were shaking.

His eyes were stinging, his blood felt like it was boiling. The room felt too small, the rain outside was a siren song. Alastor got the distinct impression that whatever he chose to do next was going to be incredibly stupid, but he almoast didn’t care. It was like a bubble had popped, his indifference had splintered, and in the face of ‘till death do us part’, his bruised and battered pride had evidently decided to make one last stand.

One last chance.

On impulse, he took the chair from the dresser and dragged it to the window, and then he waited for the next lightning flash. 

Another bolt lit up the sky and he began to count.

~~~

_ “One, two, three....” _

_ “What are you doing mama?” _

_ “Counting the seconds between the lightning and the thunder, cherie.” _

_ “Why?” _

_ A young Alastor climbed into his mother’s lap and watched the rain outside pour down the windows. He’d wanted to go play outside, but his mother had said she wouldn’t clean his good shirt twice. He couldn’t be bothered changing, so he had stayed indoors instead. _

_ “It’s how you can tell how close the center of the storm is. The longer the gap, the further away it is.” _

_ Just like that, the rumble of thunder roared in the distance. _

_ “See? Seven seconds. It will clear up soon. Then you can play outside.” _

_ “Promise mama?” _

_ “I promise. Now come, count with me.” _

_ ~~~ _

Alastor barely made it past one before an ear splitting crack made the building shake. Alastor was ready. He hefted the chair and sent its legs through the glass, using the thunder as cover for the smash.

Broken shards of glass fell down to the street along with the rain.

Alastor had no clothes here except for the nightshirt on his back and the suit, so he grabbed the shoes and the trousers, pulling them on hastily and laying the jacket over the jagged edge of the broken window. 

The branch like iron of the fire escape was a welcoming embrace.

He was soaked in mere seconds, but he didn’t let it deter him. Carefully making his way down. A lone figure making its way down the enormous building, battered by the rain. The rain made the ladder slippery, but he was careful where he put his hands and feet. The air around him was thick and grey, the buildings around him colossal pillars, mere silhouettes in the gloom. But he wasn’t intimidated.

For the first time since coming to New York, he didn’t feel watched.

He meticulously avoided windows. Although all was dark and calm, he would take no chances. Anyone peering through their windows might have seen a form moving down the fire escape, but who would be barkers enough to do that in such weather?

This was the closest he had been in years.

Freedom tasted like acrid city rain.

After what felt like countless floors, the ground was in sight. Alastor eagerly sped his descent. There was a point a few floors up where his foot slipped and his heart leapt into his mouth. He bit his tongue to resist the urge to cry out. 

His whiteknickled grip was shaky on the ladder, but still he persisted. 

Down, down, down, until his feet touched the slick city pavement.

Alastor’s knees felt weak. He wanted to collapse to the floor and simply relish in the feeling of rain and pavement beneath his feet and  _ freedom _ . But he couldn’t. He wasn’t done, not yet. This was just the beginning. So instead of doing that, he pulled his shirt tighter around him and looked down at his hand.

The ring Angel had proposed to him glared back at him. 

He felt so good, yet… Something in his stomach still felt frightened. 

The rain was bitter and cold. He had no money and no place to stay. Selling the ring might get him something, but how much? Where could he even sell it around here? No doubt by tomorrow morning, the entirety of the mafioso scene would be on a manhunt for him.

Was he brave enough to do this?

He had made that whole climb on impulse. An adrenaline riddled call without much thought to it. He hadn’t expected to make it this far. He’d half expected someone to see him and drag him back. Now that he was here…. Could he take those final steps? Three years ago the answer had definitely been yes, but now….

This was probably his last chance to turn around. He could climb back up there. Claim the window was an accident. Go to the wedding tomorrow and live out the rest of his life in luxury-

He took a deep breath. Wet curls flopped into his face as he let out a mirthless chuckle.

Who was he kidding? There was only one right answer at this point. 

He turned in the face of the rain and closed his eyes, enjoying it for a few more moments.

Alastor summoned what confidence he could to do what he knew he needed to. He could almost feel his mother at his side.

_ A smile is all it takes… _

Alastor slapped a smile on his face, and stepped towards his future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A... idk, hopeful ending? depends how optimistic you are I suppose. How Alastor's little escape attempt works put is up to you. Do Henroin's goons find him and drag him back? Does he make it home to New Orleans? Did he get cold feet and turn around? That's on you, gentle reader. 
> 
> I'll see you all in the next ending :P


	8. Ending 2 - A Short Leash (TW: Murder)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a well off household, in the suburbs off New York City, a killer prowls. Looking for his victim through the house like a cat after a mouse, he seems well in control.
> 
> But is he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ENDING SPOILERS: Angel 'wins' this ending
> 
> TW list: Murder, Assassination, Possessive behaviour, Descriptions of physical recovery, Manipulation, Mentions of Cannibalisim
> 
> Phew, another one done! Idk why these take so much more effort. I never was good at endings :/ This is the last of the 'soft endings' as I have dubbed them in my head. We get a serious jump in 'fucked up-ness' from here, which persona;;y I'm looking forward to! But I will advice that from here you heed the warnings mindfully.
> 
> EDIT: Holy shit guys, we have fanart!!!!! Huge thanks to QueenMushroom5 who was not only super sweet in their comment but also elevated me to Supernova Excitement level. My heart is in overdrive over this. Thank you so, so much. Everyone go give the peice some love here: https://twitter.com/AoiMush/status/1360094879632789504?s=20

Alastor moved through the unfamiliar house like a ghost. All the lights were off as he slowly and quietly picked his way through the rooms and halls. Aware of every breath, every step he made. Silent as the tomb this place was about to be. 

The house was clearly expensive, polished floors and dark countertops with crystalline lighting fixtures. Even in the dark he could see it all glinting. He slowly moved through the kitchen, sneering at the state of the knives on the block. They were well made, but abused. Even in the low light from the street he could see the edges were chipped and uneven, the blade unhoned and sloppily maintained. Poorly taken care of. 

He shook his head to himself and moved on.

Perhaps in another life he would have rescued them. Taken them home, sharpened them to a merciless point and used them lovingly. He wasn’t the type of killer to take trophies, but he did hate waste. The knives were high quality, but clearly hadn’t been treated well a day in their lives. Perhaps he could have used them...

But that wasn’t the life he was currently living, so he had to leave them.

He told himself that it was fine. That he had perfectly serviceable blades to use. One of them was in his hand right now.

It was fine.

~~~

_ They had been in New York five months and Alastor was slowly, torturously, earning his privileges back.  _

_ After months and months of Alastor trying out all sorts of small rebellions, from refusing to eat to not talking to him for days on end. In the end, it culminated in Angel snapping and shoving a knife under Alastor’s chin. Voices on both sides were raised and it had ended with him gagging and locking Alastor back in the suitcase he arrived in. Shoving him in a corner for two days and leaving him to mull with no food or water, _

_ “I really want to make this easy, my love but you  _ **_have to work with me_ ** _.” Angel had hissed. “I’m all you have now, and if you don’t want  _ **_me_ ** _ then you can have nothing.” _

_ So he left it, wordlessly checking Alastor’s breathing every so often the only interaction he gave him. _

_ He’d heard, a few times, small sobs coming from where he left the case, but he’d ignored the pangs in his heart and resolved that Alastor  _ **_had to learn._ ** __

_ And learn he did. _

_ Alastor had emerged from the case two days later weak and delirious, Angel had whispered loving promises to him as he’d nursed him through the dehydration and brought his stomach back to size. He told him about how once Alastor loved him back they would be beautiful together. All the things they would do in the domestic heaven they could build for themselves. _

_ He had no idea if Alastor could even hear him for most of it, he’d been asleep a great deal, but after his recovery… Something was different. _

_ Angel was finally satisfied that his love was starting to settle. Besides a few minor punishments here and there, Alastor was starting to comply without too much fuss when Angel asked for indulgences or went to take care of him. _

_ A week ago they had sat together on the couch, Alastor virtually unrestrained other than by the fact that Angel had his gun tucked at his side and a willingness to use it. Angel had started reading a book from his childhood, Peter Pan, aloud while they were waiting for a soup to simmer earlier that day. Alastor had said nothing at the time, but after dinner quietly requested that he continue reading the book. Angel had been more than happy to, so he had carried Alastor down the stairs and tucked him up on the couch before picking up where he had left off. _

_ It was bliss. _

_ Angel liked the story, but the fact that he was reading it so Alastor could enjoy it made it all the sweeter. Angel constantly stole glances at his beloved to see how he was reacting, Alastor had his eyes shut and had a look of almost… serene peace on his face. Skin glowing in the afternoon sun as he let the words wash over him. Alastor had gone very pale immediately after arriving in New York. Not enough sun. After looking so sick, it was like a breath of fresh air for Angel to see. _

_ The whole moment had been quietly intimate. Angel had been careful to respect Alastor’s space, simply letting them exist in the same room, breathe the same air, enjoy the same story.  _

_ Angel smiled privately to himself. Perhaps this was a sign of a sweet future on the horizon for them, One of a world where Alastor didn’t struggle, and they could live together as the happy couple they were meant to be. _

_ When Angel finished the story, he closed the book carefully and glanced over at Alastor, only to hear a soft snort. Angel giggled quietly to himself as he realized that Alastor had fallen asleep, and was softly snoring in the remaining warmth of the day as it retreated to night. _

_ Angel reached over and cupped Alastor’s cheek in his palm. Alastor shifted a little, but didn’t wake. A lock of dark curl fell down in front of Alastor’s face, tickling his nose, and Angel carefully brushed it to the side. _

_ Perfection. Beauty incarnate, and finally Angel could feel that he was his. _

~~~

Moving between the rooms, Alastor explored until his keen ears caught the sound of breathing. His heart picked up and a warm rush travelled through his veins. The promise of the kill was exhilarating, and pushed him forwards.

Following the sound to a heavy wooden door, he slowly pushed it open. He had been concerned for creaking, but the door swung open easily, smooth as butter. A master bedroom with heavy curtains and grandiose paintings lining the walls was revealed. 

In a grand bed with silken sheets lay a body.

A target.

Blissfully asleep and unaware of the figure slinking like a shadow into their room. Alastor’s long fingers held the knife comfortably, and he moved with an assured and deadly confidence. Competent and  _ hungry. _ His heart was racing, blood pumping in his ears, and his whole body buzzing with the thrill of  _ pure joy and excitement. _

This was what it meant to be alive. In control of the life of a victim. To see their entire string of fate wind out before you, and knowing that it stopped at the edge of your blade. 

Alastor crept forwards.

~~~

_ Relearning to walk was an arduous, exhausting process for his beloved, Angel knew. He could see Alastor quickly growing frustrated with how his withered body refused to move the way he wanted it to.  _

_ If Angel had his way, and he could if he wanted, Alastor wouldn't relearn to walk at all. The temptation to refuse when Alastor turned despondent eyes on him was immense. But seeing Alastor stare longingly at the kitchen, or make dogged attempts at crossing a room only to collapse in a heap of tangled limbs… the pain his beloved was in, being denied just that little bit of autonomy, caused bolts of pain to shoot through Angel's heart. _

_ So he allowed it. Watching, but not intervening. Not yet. While he would allow it, he would not encourage this. Even though seeing Alastor stumble and fall hurt his heart, he couldn’t abide aiding Alastor in this.  _

_ He was always ready with a kind word, a massage, and a warm meal when Alastor eventually ran out of energy though. _

_ Angel half expected Alastor to lash out in anger, snarl that it was his fault. Angel was ready for it, it was part of the process. But after a few angry glares, he seemed to turn his frustration and anger inwards, and grow destructively reckless. Pushing harder and harder in an attempt to make progress in the endless journey of recovery. _

_ Angel grew concerned as Alastor continued to push himself too hard, and after a few days of this, despite his reservations, he stepped in.  _

_ Angel had been watching from the armchair across the room with a keen eye, doing some sewing and watching for both the intention to run, and any danger of harm. This while Alastor had been teetering along the living room, supporting himself on the edge of the couch as he tried to make it more than a few steps without having to lean on the wall.  _

_ As he did so, his foot caught on the carpet and he went toppling forwards. His surprised shout had spurred Angel into near unconscious action. Seeing that his lover's nose was on a collision course with the edge of the coffee table, Angel swooped in, bundling Alastor in his arms and breaking his fall. _

_ Alastor was panting in shock and fear both, as Angel pulled him back and gently guided him to sit on the sofa.  _

_ The poor dear was so tense, the fall must have given him quite the fright. He stroked his love’s hair and breathed slowly, shushing him gently. He muttered quietly, still holding Alastor tight.  _

_ “I think that’s enough practice for the day, my darling. Don’t you?”  _

_ Alastor said nothing, but after a while, he let out a shaky breath. The tension started to drain out of his body as he leaned into Angel’s arms. His breath hitched a little and a suspicious wetness appeared on Angel’s shoulder after a few moments. _

_ A sweet surrender. _

_ “That’s it... “ Angel soothed. “Just relax. You don’t have to push so hard.” _

_They both sat on the soft cushions for a moment. Angel holding Alastor close and holding him together as he fell apart. It was a long time coming. Alastor had exhausted his anger and desperation. No wonder he was getting so worked up about his failures to walk. Angel had thought it was a foolhardy jab at gaining control of_ ** _Angel._** _One doomed to fail, which is why he had allowed it, but he now saw that was wrong._

_ He was looking for remnants of his old normal. He had given up on escape and was simply looking for something,  _ **_anything_ ** ,  _ that he could control period. _

_ “Please… Please let me… Just a little…” _

_ Angel rubbed Alastor’s back softly. _

_ “There, there… I was wrong to leave you to work this out alone. We’ll work on this together, yeah? But tomorrow. You’ve done quite enough today.” He pulled away and used his thumb to wipe away a tear stain under his beloved’s big, beautiful eyes. “Would you like to do some reading now?” _

_ Alastor once again said nothing. But after a small pause, he nodded. _

_ “That… That sounds nice, Angel.” _

~~~

Alastor’s chest felt light as he drew nearer and nearer to the prone body in the bed. He repositioned his grip on the gleaming blade in his hand, sharpened, polished, and honed specifically for this man’s flesh. He felt like he could hear roaring like music in his ears. Euphoria sang in every drop of his blood.

He reached the bedside and he felt like his eyes were glowing. The moment was snapshot perfect, crystal clear. His hands were steady and a gright, joyous smile was plastered on his face. 

He was not one for sentimentality when it came to his kills, but he took just a moment to bask in this one perfect second. His teeth itched for the next part, however, so he didn’t dally.

_ ~~~ _

_ It had been a month or so since Alastor had regained the ability to walk unaided, and while still under intense scrutiny by Angel, things were going well. He was still chained down for bedtime, and not allowed out of his room without supervision, but there had been no funny business yet. Angel took every opportunity to remind Alastor that any attempt to bolt would be met with a wide scale manhunt and the removal of the legs he had worked so hard to rehabilitate. _

_ “Among other things…” Angel had said with narrowed eyes and his gun a heavy presence in his hand.” _

_ That, and some very pointed visits from Archie, and Alastor was still behaving even after a few months. Angel was over the moon. This was it. Their happily ever after started now… _

_ Or… It would have. _

_ Angel could see Alastor growing restless.  _

_ Ever since he had re-acquired the ability to pace, he’d taken to doing so. Up and down the length of whatever room he happened to be in. It reminded Angel distinctly of a tiger in a cage, that could see food but not reach it. He’d seen such a thing the one time he and his siblings had been able to see a circus as children.  _

_ Seeing the tiger had hurt his heart. It had looked upset. _

_ This hurt it no less. _

_ He acted… Restrained around Angel. Perhaps due to fear, or caution, but he could see it. He had been watching Alastor closely and lovingly for a long while now, and he knew what frustration looked like. It looked like fidgety, expressive hands and the tap tap tapping of blunt nails on any available surface. Flexing fingers and so, so much pacing. Compulsive brushing of clothes and cold glares at any irritating sound. _

_ It also looked like compulsive cooking, but Alastor had to wait a while before he was allowed back in the kitchen with the knives. _

_ He had caught Alastor staring at him more than once, but flinching away when their eyes met. There was no… defiance. In fact it almost looked hungry. In a way. Eager in a strange way. Not a sexual way, or a desired way at all… Just… _

_ Desperate.  _

_ Anybody else in the house, although that number was usually minimal, got the same look. His fingers would also brush over his stomach every so often, before going back to flex or fidget. Gaze transfixed on them with a singular focus. It was like he didn’t even blink. That caused a sharp spike of jealousy to fire through Angel, even though he had no idea what the look even  _ **_meant._ **

_ Angel had been more than ready to live with Alastor’s anger and frustration when he knew what he was angry and frustrated about, because then he knew what to work on to fix it. But this was a new and disconcerting predicament. _

_ It warranted more investigation. Anything that made his beloved so upset had to go. _

_ He might never have figured it out, had he not had Benvolio over for dinner. _

_ Benvolio was nice enough. Quite an unremarkable man, especially for a mafioso. He was a banker by day, and a fairly important one, and a money launderer by night. But a boring person.  _

_ Angel didn’t really care about him one way or the other, but Archie had asked for him specifically to question him about a strange trade gone wrong. He had been the only friendly survivor and was being strangely tight lipped about the whole thing. They didn’t want to rough him up and lose his partnership, so both Archie and Benvolio were coming over, to see if Angel’s charisma could get anything out of him. _

_ Alastor had been wound up all day, to the point that as 6pm approached, Angel wondered if he would have to lock Alastor out of the dining room like a naughty dog. He had caught Alastor prowling the perimeter of the house, slinking through the rooms with stitching fingers and jerky, agitated movements. When Angel beckoned him down to dinner, saying they were expecting guests soon, a fire seemed to spark in Alastor’s eyes, and Angel saw him swipe his tongue over his teeth. _

_ Angel had warned Alastor in advance to expect guests, and he hadn’t seemed too bothered by the prospect at the time. Besides, Alastor was outgoing enough that Angel doubted it was the idea of the company that was the problem. _

_ Angel sighed. He just… couldn’t figure it out. _

_ He took Alastor’s hand, as he had been doing since Alastor started to walk again, to take him to the dining room. He’d started doing it to make sure Alastor didn’t fall, or get lost in the new space. Alastor was stable enough not to fall now, and he knew the way by this point, but after an initial half-flinch at the touch he allowed it anyway. _

_ Angel smiled to himself and continued guiding the way. _

~~~

Other than the dim light shining through the open doors, there was no light in the room. The curtains effectively blotted any light from the street and left the kill to happen in the dark.

It was no matter, Alastor knew this routine like breathing, and it would take more than low light to so much as break his stride. The kill was quick. A gleam of silver and a choked yell was all it took for the air to grow heavy and metallic with the scent of blood. It made Alastor’s mouth water. He wanted to rip and maim, make a game of it, the body was dead but he could yet have so much fun… He longed to cut himself a slice to take home-

But....

“Okay boys, he’s had his fun.”

This body was not his to butcher.

~~~

_ Dinner was about halfway done, and Angel was reaching his limit. _

_ He was supposed to be using his charm to get some answers out of Benvolio without making it too obvious that he was probably gonna get a shank between the ribs afterwards. But that was proving very hard to do, as Angel was becoming increasingly tempted to plant the carving knife currently laying by the roast beef into the man’s skull. _

_ It was nothing he was doing, at least to Angel’s knowledge, but Alastor wouldn’t stop  _ **_staring_ ** _ at the guy. When they had walked in Benvolio had been sitting in the living room with his back to the door. Angel had felt Alastor stiffen, faltering in his stride. Angel had turned, concerned that he had fallen or grown tired, but instead saw him frozen in place, staring at the man on the sofa. _

_ He assumed that it was the sight of a stranger in his space, or just maybe the sight of somebody who could be aid. Angel squeezed Alastor’s hand, both a comforting gesture and a warning. _

_ “Come on,” He breathed, rubbing the back of Alastor’s hand. “It’s fine. He’s from the family.” _

_ That did get Alastor moving again, but it didn’t change the intensity of the gaze Alastor was giving the man’s exposed neck. When he moved again, he moved slowly and silently, his footfalls ever so light. Like he was nervous to catch the man’s attention, and wanted to simply stare from out of sight.  _

_ This had continued the whole time the banker was here, and even now, in the middle of dinner, Angel could barely focus for the overpowering jealousy that was making his blood boil. _

_ The utter fixation, the undivided attention Alastor was giving this frankly unremarkable man was driving him towards the need to slowly and painfully break some ribs. Whose, he wasn’t sure yet, but his fingers itched. _

_ Archie was only inputting every fifth sentence or so, and Alastor was too caught up in… Whatever he saw in the man, so Angel was doing the heavy lifting in terms of asking questions. Angel had got the man talking about what he had been doing before the shootout, and he didn’t seem any the wiser that he was being quietly interrogated, and once he was on a roll, he could finally spare a glance towards his beloved. _

_ His love was still seemingly captivated by… Something. The only time he looked away was when there was a threat of the man looking up from his dinner or his conversation with Angel to glance around the table. _

_ Alastor wasn’t eating much, which was already a red flag. After the initial rebellion, he  _ **_never_ ** _ refused food. He was simply fiddling with the knife, staring intently at Benvolio’s exposed throat.  _

_ Something red hot and sticky and sick was building in Angel’s stomach that made him want to take up the carving knife in the center of the table. Show both of them just who warranted Alastor’s attention. Hell, if he didn’t have a job to do, he might have done it already. Angel let those thoughts churn in his mind as he wondered just what had gotten into his love. What the hell was he seeing in this plain, boring man? He never- _

_...He never looked at Angel like that. _

_ But why? _

_ Why this man? Angel’s understanding was that Alastor… wasn’t interested in people, not like that. How could it be that the first person someone as bright and radiant as  _ **_Alastor’s_ ** _ first attraction was to someone so- _

_ Unless… _

_ Unless it wasn't an attraction at all. _

_ Angel watched Alastor’s tongue swipe across his lips and his knuckles were white around the handle of his knife. He fiddled with it Even though he was sat at the table, he agitatedly moved with the grace of a restrained predator. _

_ A great, deadly something ready to pounce. _

_ And in a sudden moment of clarity, Angel understood. He saw the scene from a different angle, and knew exactly what was missing.  _

_ What was stopping Alastor from settling. _

_ Thankfully it was something he could fix. _

_ He took Alastor’s hand under the table, gently feeling the slender fingers twitch, before refocusing on Benvolio with new vigour. _

_ He needed to get the information out of this man fast. _

_ He had a new need for the man’s irrelevance. _

~~~

Alastor was still buzzing as the room was entered by a small team of people, led by Angel’s brother. They, like him, worked under the cover of night to start clearing up the crime scene and moving the body where they needed it. They were using it to send some sort of message, to his understanding. He missed the process of cleanup… Of doing what he pleased with the body but... 

He refused to let them ruin his elation as Archie walked over and looked him up and down. He had been swift but brutal and had a bright red stain all down his shirt where his movement had smeared blood. Archie didn’t comment, merely kept his gun poised.

“Knife please.”

Alastor could feel the edges of his mouth tingling, some savage thing inside of him wanted to continue the slaughter. It had been a long dry spell before this mark had come up, and part of him was still hungry but…

He was sated for the most part. Enough so that he realised what a bad idea it would be to lash out right now. So he sighed, brought the wild side of himself under wraps, and reluctantly handed over the knife. He saw the man’s eyes flash in the dark as he took it and tucked it away.

Alastor was now declawed, his job done for the night.

“Come on, Angel’s outside.”

He took position just behind Alastor. Just a little out of sight, so Alastor couldn’t attack him, but Archie could absolutely shoot should Alastor make a run for it. Had it been anyone else, Alastor might have had a glimmer of hope for complacency, but as things were…

Well he knew enough about Angel's brother not to hope for mistakes.

He allowed himself to be frogmarched outside and walked to a hidden area where a car was parked. Angel leaned against the sleek black hood, his pale hair glowing in the moonlight and a fur coat draped across his shoulders. As soon as he saw them approaching, he perked up and hurried over, a bright smile on his face.

“Oh, look at you….” He breathed, looking over Alastor’s bloodstained shirt. “Magnificent…”

Angel looked like he was about to lean in closer, but Archie cleared his throat.

“Search first, Angel. Or I’ll do it myself.”

Angel pouted in the direction of his brother, though it was mostly lost in the dark. 

“Oh fine, sourpuss.”

“This is for  _ your _ safety, I’ll remind you.” 

“Ally won’t hurt me.”

“I’m not willing to take the chance.”

Alastor was allowed on these escapades on the condition that he left with nothing and arrived with nothing. So, Angel began a pat down, as was their new procedure. Angel had been beside himself with possessive jealousy when Archie had tried to do it the first time, and Alastor had almost bolted for the slimy feeling a near stranger’s hands had left on his skin, so now Angel did the searches.

Angel’s touch still made his hairs stand on end, but at least it was familiar, and reliably gentle. Provided he behaved, at least.

Alastor had a feeling he should be worried that he’d grown accustomed to Angel’s touch enough that it wasn’t upsetting, despite all they’d been through. But those thoughts were quickly chased away by the promise of the chance to spill blood in exchange for good behaviour and avoiding the skin crawling touch of anybody else.

“There, empty. See Archie? He would never be naughty on a killing day.”

Once Angel had confirmed with his brother that Alastor was clear, he slipped his pale hand into Alastor’s bloodstained one, creating swirling patterns on his skin. He turned his attention to Alastor, looking up as he rested his head on Alastor’s arm.

Alastor was conscious of his touch, the stifling warmth of his presence…

But he allowed it.

“Did you have fun, my love?” Angel asked, eyes wide and bright with his particular brand of adoration, tracing the blood on his shirt. “A good day at work?”

He giggled at his own little joke and Alastor gave a little chuckle, albeit a sad one.

He was always sad after one of these days.

“Yes, Angel. I did.”

Angel smiled, pulling their joint hand up so he could plant a kiss on the back of Alastor’s hand, staining his lips red with blood.

“Good.” Angel chirped with a smile. “Archie’s in charge from here. You and me? Let’s go home.”

Angel pulled him to the car and Alastor complied. Climbing into the seat with no fuss. 

He knew there were worse ways to travel with Angel, after all.

Part of him knew that he was going back to a prison. Like a tiger made to perform, only to be taken back to his cage at the end of the day. But the thrill of the kill was so good, and it’s not as if he had a litany of other options. Even Angel was… not so bad provided he was happy.

Alastor even thought that maybe, with time… He could even grow close to Angel. He didn’t think he could ever give Angel, or  _ anyone _ romantic or (heaven forbid) carnal connection. But Angel was (usually) kind, and a good conversationalist.

And  _ anything _ was better than the ringing silence, to be frank.

As far as prisons went…

He could get used to it.

As the driver started the car, Alastor allowed Angel to keep their fingers entwined, and they stayed that way the whole way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the ending was a bit unclear, or if anyone is lost, Alastor and Angel compromise on his desire to kill by allowing him to take out hits for the mafia before being marched home to stay in captivity with Angel.


	9. FANART!!!!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not a chapter but i couldn't let this go unrecognized. We have FANART BAYBEEEEEEE!!!!!!!

Sorry, not a chapter, but god I couldn't not share this. QueenMushroom5 hoas become my New Favorite Person by drawing me _amazing_ fanart that you should all look at immediately. 

It can be found [here](https://twitter.com/AoiMush/status/1360094879632789504?s=20)

My day, my week, my **year** has been made. Thank you so, so, so much.

In other news, next chapter will be on it's way soon. Y'all have a storm coming....


End file.
